Colonel Tremaine’s handsome old face grew pale, while a flush arose in Angela’s cheeks. A silence fell which showed instantly to Madame Isabey that she had made a false step, and she suddenly remembered the story about Neville Tremaine which she had heard and, for the moment, forgotten. After a pause, slight but exquisitely painful, Colonel Tremaine replied: “We have only one son in the Confederate service.” “Oh, were you ever at the carnival?” cried Madame Isabey, determined to get away from the unfortunate subject. “Yes, madame, I was at the carnival of 1847,” replied Colonel Tremaine, glad to take refuge in the safe harbor of reminiscences of 1847. “I remember that carnival. I was as slight as your finger, and could waltz all through the carnival week without being fatigued.” Here Madame Isabey, with her two fingers and a lace handkerchief deftly wrapped around her hand, made a very good imitation of a ballet dancer waltzing and pirouetting on the bare mahogany table. Mrs. Tremaine was secretly shocked at such flippancy, and Adrienne sighed a little over the incurable levity of her mother. One present, however, enjoyed it hugely. This was Archie, who recognized that Madame Isabey’s heart and soul were about the age of his own. He grinned delightedly and sympathetically at Madame Isabey. So did Tasso and Jim Henry, but Hector, assuming an air of stern rebuke, marched up to Madame Isabey, and in a stage whisper announced: “Family prayers, m’um, is at half past nine o’clock, mu’m.” “What does he say?” asked Madame Isabey inquiringly. And Lyddon gravely explained that Hector wished to know at what hour she would like breakfast in her room. After supper, Madame Isabey, who had heard the outlines of Angela’s story, taking her by the arm, walked up and down the hall, her voluminous flounces and large hoop making her look like a stupendous pin cushion. But her smiling face, dimpled with good humor, showed that she had not outlived the tenderness of sympathy. “My dear,” she said, speaking slowly and in English, “I know it all. You adored Neville Tremaine and married him for the best reason in the world--because he asked you. We are not accustomed to what you people in Virginia call love marriages, but I rather like them once in a while when there is a little money back of them. My last marriage was a love marriage, but I had a fine house in New Orleans and a couple of sugar plantations, and my husband had two more sugar plantations and a larger house than mine, so you see we could afford to be sentimental. My first marriage was arranged for me, but I frankly admit that I preferred the last one. It sometimes happens that a second marriage is a first love.” Angela with Madame Isabey’s fat arm upon her slender one, and the old lady’s dark, bright eyes seeking hers, was inwardly horrified at Madame Isabey’s confidence, but maintained a discreet silence as Madame Isabey prattled on.