“Eugenie Arschinard, who knew him so well, kept her own counsel, but of the four ladies none were half as anxious to see Anna Haverleigh as herself. It was late one lovely September afternoon when the guests arrived at the chateau, where all was in readiness for them, and Madame Verwest, in her best black silk and laces, stood waiting for them, courtesying respectfully as they were presented to her, and then conducting them to their several rooms. Anna was not present to receive them. She preferred not to see them until dinner, and stood waiting for her husband in the salon. She had not been permitted to wear mourning for her mother, as she had wished to do, but on this occasion she was dressed in a black silk grenadine, with puffings of soft illusion lace at her neck and wrists, while her only ornaments were a necklace and earrings of jet. To relieve the somberness of this attire, Celine had fastened in her bright, wavy hair a beautiful blush rose, which was far more effective than any costly ornament could have been, and had Anna studied her toilet for a month, she could not have chosen a more becoming one, or one which better pleased her fastidious lord. She was beautiful as she stood before him with that pale, pensive style of beauty so attractive to most men, and as he held her in his arms he felt, for a few moments, how far superior she was to the brazen, painted women he had brought there as her associates, and for half an instant he resolved to keep her from them, lest so much as their breath should fall upon and contaminate her in some way. But it was too late now. She must meet them day after day, and he must see her with them, and go on acting his false part, and make himself a still greater villain, if possible, than ever. But he would be very kind to her, and deferential, too, especially before Eugenie, whom for the time being he felt that he hated with a most bitter hatred, not only for what she was, but for the power she had over him. How gorgeous she was at dinner in her dress of crimson satin, with lace overskirt, and diamonds flashing on her neck and arms, and how like a queen, or rather like the mistress of the house, she carried herself among her companions as they stood in the grand salon waiting for Mrs. Haverleigh, the younger portion speculating upon the probabilities of her acting rationally in their presence, while she, Eugenie, listened to their speculations with a scornful curl on her lip, and an increased glitter in her black eyes.