She peeled the nectarine leisurely--she seemed to enjoy it more than all the rest of her dinner. And what could that expression mean on her face? Inscrutable--cynical was it? No--absorbed. As absolutely unconscious of self and others as if she had been alone in the room. What could she be thinking of never to worry to look about her?
He began now to notice her throat, it was rounded and intensely white, through the transparent black stuff. She had no strings of pearls or jewels on--unless--yes, that was a great sapphire gleaming from the folds of gauze on her neck. Not surrounded by diamonds like ordinary brooches, but just a big single stone so dark and splendid it seemed almost black. There was another on her hand, and yet others in her ears.
Her ears were not anything so very wonderful! Not so very! Isabella's were quite as good--and this thought comforted him a little. As far as he could see beyond the roses and the table she was a slender woman, and he had not noticed on her entrance if she were tall or short. He could not say why he felt she must be well over thirty--there was not a line or wrinkle on her face--not even the slight nip in under the chin, or the tell-tale strain beside the ears.
She was certainly not pretty, certainly not. Well shaped--yes--and graceful as far as he could judge; but pretty--a thousand times No!
Then the speculation as to her nationality began. French? assuredly not. English? ridiculous! Equally so German. Italian? perhaps. Russian? possibly. Hungarian? probably.
Paul had drunk his third glass of port and was beginning his fourth. This was far more than his usual limit. Paul was, as a rule, an abstemious young man. Why he should have deliberately sat and drank that night he never knew. His dinner had been moderate--distinctly moderate--and he had watched a refined feast of Lucullus partaken of by a woman who only tasted each plat!
"I wonder what she will have to pay for it all?" he thought to himself. "She will probably sign the bill, though, and I shan't see."
But when the lady had finished her nectarine and dipped her slender fingers in the rose-water she got up--she had not smoked, she could not be Russian then. Got up and walked towards the door, signing no bill, and paying no gold.
Paul stared as she passed him--rudely stared--he knew it afterwards and felt ashamed. However, the lady never so much as noticed him, nor did she raise her eyes, so that when she had finally disappeared he was still unaware of their colour or expression.