Virginia could not blame him. It seemed to her that the girl--she looked no more than seventeen or eighteen--was wonderfully pretty. For Fanchon had stopped just inside the door, where the light fell full upon her, and was listening, her head a little bent and her finger on her lips. She had given her wrap to Leigh, and stood there, a shining little figure, in white and silver, much _décolleté_, her slender arms and her lovely young throat unornamented. Her gown--a Parisian thing, Virginia thought--clung to her in a wonderful way, like the shining calyx of a flower; and yet it floated, too, when she moved. Her dusky hair, her wonderful dark eyes, and the piquant little face, needed no better frame than the glimpse of starry night in the open door behind her and the glimmer of shaded lights overhead. Virginia went forward. “I’m so glad you’ve come,” she said softly. “Your number is the next one, Mrs. Carter.” Fanchon turned to answer, putting out a small, bejeweled hand, confident and smiling, a sparkling little creature. Then suddenly there came a change. She stopped short and stood motionless. She scarcely seemed to breathe. It was as if some force stronger than her will had arrested her. Watching her face, Virginia felt the shock of it, without knowing what it was--fear or hate, or a mingling of both. But Fanchon’s eyes were fixed on Corwin, and they were no longer soft. It was not the look of a wild fawn, but of a tigress at bay. Something within, some feeling as strong as it was extraordinary, transformed her. For an instant she seemed to flinch, then she stood facing him. The man, turning as suddenly, saw her. He jumped to his feet. “Fanchon la Fare!” he exclaimed, and came toward her, speaking rapidly in French. Virginia turned away. She did not want to listen, but she heard an exclamation from Fanchon, and saw her leave Corwin standing, an odd look on his face. Leigh, who had been busy with the wraps, turned, saw the meeting and Fanchon’s face. He dropped his burden and crossed over to her quickly. “What did he say to you, Fanchon?” he panted. “If he was rude to you, I’ll--I’ll thrash him!” Fanchon laughed a wild little laugh. “Dear boy!” she said softly, and stroked his hand. “_Je t’adore!_” Leigh flushed, his lowering gaze fastened angrily on Corwin, and Virginia drew a breath of relief when she heard the applause outside. Caraffi had given them a cheery encore; he was coming off the platform, and Fanchon must go on. Virginia called to her softly. “Now, please, Mrs. Carter!” she said. Fanchon turned and looked at her, saw by her face that Virginia had seen too much, and her eyes blazed with anger. She took a step forward and snatched up her music-roll, running her fingers over the leaves and biting her lip. “Tell them to play this, please,” she said, with her head up.