The men who talked with them, on the contrary, were
arrayed heavily in multi-coloured garments with collars up to their ears
and thick sashes round their waists. Lieut. D'Hubert made his unabashed
way across the room and, bowing low before a sylph-like form reclining
on a couch, offered his apologies for this intrusion, which nothing
could excuse but the extreme urgency of the service order he had to
communicate to his comrade Feraud. He proposed to himself to return
presently in a more regular manner and beg forgiveness for interrupting
the interesting conversation . . .
A bare arm was extended towards him with gracious nonchalance even
before he had finished speaking. He pressed the hand respectfully to his
lips, and made the mental remark that it was bony. Madame de Lionne was
a blonde, with too fine a skin and a long face.
"C'est ca!" she said, with an ethereal smile, disclosing a set of large
teeth. "Come this evening to plead for your forgiveness."
"I will not fail, madame."
Meantime, Lieut. Feraud, splendid in his new dolman and the extremely
polished boots of his calling, sat on a chair within a foot of the
couch, one hand resting on his thigh, the other twirling his moustache
to a point.
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