Indeed she had the right selective faculty. Her schooling might have extended through a couple of months, and here she was a queen of inimitable charms. She had suffered no illusions of caste; but recognising herself as to the purple of beauty born, she had simply allowed her instincts for style to develop themselves in a congenial atmosphere. And thereto a present air of pride and defiance lent its grace. She made no secret to herself of what she was, and yet that was merely the glorified accent to what she had been. The brilliant dyes of the tiger-moth are only the hues of the caterpillar intensified. This--the brilliancy, the bright loveliness, and the soft consciousness of it all--had been embryo in her from the first. She took Ned’s hands into hers in a wooing manner. A scent of heliotrope, like an unsaintly aureola, sweetened her very neighbourhood. “Where have you been?” she said; “and why hast thou never come near me?” “Why should you want me to?” he answered in genuine amazement. “You have made your bed, Mademoiselle Lambertine.” “I have not made it; no, it is not true.” She looked about her hurriedly. “It is for you to advise me--to make it yourself--to lie in it if thou wilt. Hush, monsieur! we cannot talk here. Come and see me--come! It will be well for you.” “Well for me! But I have no private shame to traffic in, nothing to accuse myself of, mademoiselle.” “Ah, _mon Dieu_! but, by-and-by, yes, if you refuse me.” Ned hesitated. Perhaps we may have observed that curiosity is a constituent of philosophy. “Well,” he said, “where, and when, do you want me to come?” “So!” she whispered eagerly; “_j’en suis bien aise_. To the house of the lord your uncle. Come this evening, when dinner is served and done with. I will receive you alone.” She gave him her hand, with a rallying smile played to the gods in the person of the tiger, and accepted his to her carriage. “’Ome!” she said to the boy. “Unconscious irony,” muttered Ned to himself, as the “tilbury” sped away; “and how the dear fool has caught the trick of it!” Something--a rare sentiment of pride or humour--persuaded him to appear before her in the right trappings of his station. He could look a very pretty gentleman when he condescended to the masquerade of frippery; and silk and embroidery, with a subscription to conventions in the shape of a light dust of powder on the wholesome tan of his cheeks, revealed him a desirable youth. Still Mademoiselle Théroigne, though obviously taken aback before this presentment of an unrealised distinction, was immediate in adapting herself to the altered relations implied thereby. The perceptible imperiousness of her attitude towards him showed itself finely tempered by admiration. As to her exercise of the softer influences, she had graduated in these (with honours) while yet a child.