Odette flung proud glances all round her; Sylvia marveled at her satisfied achievement of a life's ambition, nor did she marvel less when she was presented to Madame Corvelis, surely the most insignificant piece of respectability that had ever adorned a cocotte's dream. It was pathetic to see the way in which the great, flaunting creature worshiped this plump _bourgeoise_ with her metallic Levantine accent: anxious lest Odette's deference should seem too effusive, Sylvia found herself affecting an equally exaggerated demeanor to keep her friend in countenance, though when she looked at their hostess she nearly laughed aloud, so much did she resemble a little squat idol receiving the complimentary adoration of some splendid savage. "I am really ashamed to receive you in this miserable little house," Madame Corvelis protested. "_Mais que voulez-vous?_ Everything is in Constantinople. Carpets, mirrors, china, silver. We came away like beggars. _Mais que voulez-vous?_ My husband is so nervous. He feared the worst. But of course he's nervous. _Que voulez-vous?_ The manager of one of the largest companies in the East! Well, I say manager, but of course when a company is as large as his, one ought to say secretary. 'Let us go to Odessa, Alceste,' he begged. My name is Alceste, but I've no Greek blood myself. Oh no, my father and mother were both Parisian. _Enfin_, my father came under the glamour of the East and called me Alceste. _Que voulez-vous?_" All the time that Madame Corvelis was talking, Odette was asking Sylvia in an unbroken whisper if she did not think that _madame_ was _charmante_, _aimable_, _gentille_, and every other gracious thing she could be. "Have you ever been to Constantinople? Have you ever seen the Bosphorus?" Madame Corvelis went on, turning to Sylvia. "What, you've never seen the most enchanting city in the world? Oh, but you must! Not now, of course. The war! It robs us all of something. Don't, please don't think that Odessa resembles Constantinople." Sylvia promised she would not. "_Mais non_, Odessa is nothing. Look at this house! Ah, when I think of what we've left behind in Constantinople. But M. Corvelis insisted, and he was right. At any rate, we've brought a few clothes with us, though of course when we came to this dreadful place we never thought that we shouldn't be back home in a month. It was merely a precaution. But he was right to be nervous, you see: the Turks have declared war. When I think of the poor ambassador. You never saw the ambassador?" Sylvia shook her head. "I remember he trod on my toe--by accident, of course--oh yes, it was entirely an accident. But he was so apologetic. What manners! But then I always say, if you want to see good manners you must frequent good society. What a pity you never saw the ambassador!" "_N'est-ce pas que c'est merveilleux?_" Odette demanded. "_Merveilleux_," Sylvia agreed, fervently.