Of course, _notez bien_, Rachel wasn't a _grosse bete_: that's a gift if you like!" Mrs. Rooth, who was evidently very proud of the figure her daughter had made--her daughter who for all one could tell affected their hostess precisely as a _grosse bete_--appealed to Madame Carre rashly and serenely for a verdict; but fortunately this lady's voluble _bonne_ came rattling in at the same moment with the tea-tray. The old actress busied herself in dispensing this refreshment, an hospitable attention to her English visitors, and under cover of the diversion thus obtained, while the others talked together, Sherringham put her the question: "Well, is there anything in my young friend?" "Nothing I can see. She's loud and coarse." "She's very much afraid. You must allow for that." "Afraid of me, immensely, but not a bit afraid of her authors--nor of you!" Madame Carre smiled. "Aren't you prejudiced by what that fellow Nash has told you?" "Why prejudiced? He only told me she was very handsome." "And don't you think her so?" "Admirable. But I'm not a photographer nor a dressmaker nor a coiffeur. I can't do anything with 'back hair' nor with a mere big stare." "The head's very noble," said Peter Sherringham. "And the voice, when she spoke English, had some sweet tones." "Ah your English--possibly! All I can say is that I listened to her conscientiously, and I didn't perceive in what she did a single _nuance_, a single inflexion or intention. But not one, _mon cher_. I don't think she's intelligent." "But don't they often seem stupid at first?" "Say always!" "Then don't some succeed--even when they're handsome?" "When they're handsome they always succeed--in one way or another." "You don't understand us English," said Peter Sherringham. Madame Carre drank her tea; then she replied: "Marry her, my son, and give her diamonds. Make her an ambassadress; she'll look very well." "She interests you so little that you don't care to do anything for her?" "To do anything?" "To give her a few lessons." The old actress looked at him a moment; after which, rising from her place near the table on which the tea had been served, she said to Miriam Rooth: "My dear child, I give my voice for the _scene anglaise_. You did the English things best." "Did I do them well?" asked the girl. "You've a great deal to learn; but you've rude force. The main things _sont encore a degager_, but they'll come. You must work." "I think she has ideas," said Mrs. Rooth. "She gets them from you," Madame Carre replied. "I must say that if it's to be _our_ theatre I'm relieved. I do think ours safer," the good lady continued. "Ours is dangerous, no doubt." "You mean you're more severe," said the girl. "Your mother's right," the actress smiled; "you have ideas."