Suddenly she saw some slight stir in the groups, the French marshal murmured: "_Comme elle est belle!_" and, looking up, she saw a fair, regal woman bowing to Madame de Chandalle--a woman whose fair, tranquil loveliness was like moonlight on a summer's lake. Leone was charmed by her. The graceful figure was shown to the best advantage by the dress of rich white silk; she wore a superb suit of opals, whose hundred tints gleamed and glistened as she moved. "The very queen of blondes," she overheard one gentleman say to another, her eyes riveted by the fair, tranquil loveliness of this beautiful woman, whose dress was trimmed with white water-lilies, who wore a water-lily in her hair and one on her white breast. Leone watched her intently. Watching her was like reading a sweet, half-sad poem, or listening to sweet, half-sad music--every movement was full of sweet harmony. Leone watched this beautiful woman for some time; every one appeared to know her; she was evidently a leader of fashion; still she had no idea who she was. She expected, she did not know why, to see Lord and Lady Chandos enter together. The French marshal was the first to speak. "You admire La Reine des Blondes, madame?" he said. "Ah, Heaven, how we should rave in Paris over so fair a lady. Do you know who she is?" "No," answered Leone, "but I should like to know very much. She is very beautiful." "It is the beauty of an angel," cried the marshal. "She is the wife of one of the most famous men in England--she is Lady Chandos." "Ah," said Leone, with a long, low cry. The very mention of the name had stabbed her through the heart. The marshal looked up in wonder. "I beg pardon," she said, quickly, "what name did you say? A sudden faintness seized me; the room is warm. What is the lady's name?" She would not for the whole world that he should have known what caused either the pain or the cry. The marshal repeated: "That is Lady Chandos, the wife of Lord Chandos, who is the rising light of this generation." "There are so many rising lights," she said, carelessly; but her heart was beating fast the while. Ah, me! so fair, so graceful, so high-bred! Was it any wonder that he had loved her? Yet to this gorgeous woman, with her soul of fire, it seemed that those perfect features were almost too gentle, and lacked the fire of life. She saw several gentlemen gather round the chair on which Lady Chandos sat, like a queen on a throne; and then the golden head was hidden from her sight.