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Bellemare's to-night, some of them apparently much appreciated, for while their homely, ungainly figures are whirled around the room on the arm of some calculating youth, fresh blooming girls must bite the ends of their feathery fans in a passion of disappointment, as they stand against the wall, or admire the pictures or statuary, or it does not matter what, so long as they need not look straight into the fun they cannot share.
This was why Honor looked so indifferent to the sensation she created this evening at the Bellemare's, gliding through the ball-room on the arm of the handsomest man present, but for all that her mind was not lazy, she was thinking deeply enough the while, leaning on the stalwart shoulder of Vivian Standish, drinking in the suggestive strains of the music to which they danced.
To make matters worse, we received in the evening intelligence that the Germans had driven Carre de Bellemare's men out of Le Bourget after some brief but desperate fighting. Trochu declared that he had no need of the Bourget position, that it had never entered into his scheme of defence, and that Bellemare had been unduly zealous in attacking and taking it from the Germans.
The gas was lit, the curtains drawn, and the familiar and just now welcome sound of dishes was coming from the dining-room across the hall. Mr. Rayne was expected every minute, and Mrs. d'Alberg and Honor were loitering the moments of waiting around the drawing-room. Do you care at all to go to the Bellemare's?"
"Did you really?" is the reply. "Well, you see, I couldn't have done that. I was engaged for every single dance and it would have been 'dreadfully atrocious' if I left before the end. We dined at Government House last night again and to-night there is an 'at Home' at the Bellemare's, but I suppose I will meet you there. Really it is 'dreadfully distressing' for one to be obliged to go out so much.
In vain Bellemare's officers went here and there. They were sent from pillar to post, from one aged General to another, and at eleven o'clock on the day when Bourget was taken, after the troops had been driven out of it, the artillery, every formality having been gone through, was on its way to the village.
There was a kind of subdued excitement in the upper front rooms of Henry Rayne's house to-night. It had been decided to go to the Bellemare's, and all this extra confusion was only about the toilets. Nanette was showering ejaculations of the profoundest admiration on Honor, who, robed in black satin, stood before a tall mirror adjusting her skirt.
The very moments, laden with gaiety and pleasure, that are dropping so quickly into the lap of the forever from out the Bellemare's lighted halls, are surely dragging painfully and slowly, for the weary watcher of death-beds, for the poor and shivering, for the deserted wife, for the orphan child, for the chained prisoner.
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