After being gone about half an hour, Madame Bonanni came back, her

Juno-like figure clad in a very pale green tea-gown, very open at the

throat, and her thick hair was smoothed in great curved surfaces which

were certainly supported by cushions underneath them. Her solid arms

were bare to the elbows, and the green sleeves hung almost to her feet.

Her face was rouged and there were artificial shadows under her eyes.

Round her neck she wore a single string of pearls as big as olives, and

her fingers were covered with all sorts of rings.

'Now you may look at me,' she said, with a gay laugh.

'I see a star of the first magnitude,' Logotheti answered gravely.

Margaret bit her lip to keep from laughing, but Madame Bonanni laughed

herself, very good-naturedly, though she understood.

'I detest this man!' she cried, turning to Margaret. 'I don't know why

I ask him to breakfast.' 'Because you cannot live without me, I suppose,' suggested Logotheti.

'I hate Greeks!' screamed the prima donna, still laughing. 'Why are you

a Greek?' 'Doubtless by a mistake of my father's, dear lady; quite unpardonable

since you are displeased! If he had lived, he certainly would have

rectified it to please you, but the Turks killed him when I was a baby

in arms; and that was before you were born.' 'Of course it was,' answered Madame Bonanni, who must have been just

about to be married at that time. 'But that is no reason why we should

stand here starving to death while you chatter.' Thereupon she put her arm through Margaret's and led her away at a

brisk pace, Logotheti following at a little distance and contemplating

the young girl's moving figure with the satisfaction that only an

Oriental feels in youthful womanly beauty. It was long since he had

seen any sight that pleased him as well, for his artistic sense was

fastidious in the highest degree where the things of daily life were

not concerned. He might indeed wear waistcoats that inspired terror and

jewellery that dazzled the ordinary eye, but there were few men in

Paris who were better judges of a picture, a statue, an intaglio, or a

woman.

In a few moments the three were seated at a carved and polished table

overloaded with silver and cut glass, one on each side of Madame

Bonanni. Three other places were set, but no one appeared to fill them.

The cheerful servant with the moustache was arrayed in a neat frock

coat and a white satin tie, and he smiled perpetually.




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