Adrienne, too, wrote, and her letters were more interesting though less expansive than Madame Isabey’s. These first letters had been written in ignorance of Isabey’s arrival at Harrowby, but when that was known Madame Isabey expressed the greatest solicitude, and would have come back instantly except for the impassability of the roads between Richmond and Harrowby. Adrienne received in a letter from Angela the news of Isabey’s presence at Harrowby one night just as she was dressing to go to a levee at the White House, where she was certain to be courted and admired by all, from the grave-faced President down to the boy lieutenants, who rode from camp into Richmond for an evening’s pleasuring. It was, perhaps, the knowledge that Isabey and Angela were together which brought the color to Adrienne’s lips and cheeks and the light to her eyes. She realized, as women do, the marked admiration she excited, the way in which the eyes of the Confederate officers followed her slight figure in her pale-blue draperies with diamonds in her hair and on her breast. If only her vanity had been wounded by Isabey’s coldness to her charms it would have been soothed by the flattering attentions lavished upon her. But Adrienne’s wound was deeper than that. While she was receiving with soft and smiling grace the compliments and gallant speeches of young officers and the more insidious flattery of older men, she was like that Spanish lover whose body was at Cordova, but whose soul was at Seville. Angela’s letter had described quite naturally and prettily how each day passed at Harrowby, and Adrienne had no difficulty in calling up the scene. At that time in the evening they were all sitting in the study in order to keep Isabey company. Lyddon was probably reading to him while Angela did needlework and--and Colonel Tremaine dozed during the reading and waked up to compliment Lyddon upon his “instructive and entertaining performance.”