He, in order to re-establish equilibrium, could only think of a compliment: "Good morning, Camille.

Ah! that havana-brown gown of yours looks nice! It's astonishing how well rather sombre colours suit you." Camille glanced at her mother's white robe, and then at her own dark gown, which scarcely allowed her neck and wrists to be seen.

"Yes," she replied laughing, "I only look passable when I don't dress as a young girl." Eve, ill at ease, worried by the growth of a rivalry in which she did not as yet wish to believe, changed the conversation.

"Isn't your brother there ?" she asked.
"Why yes, we came down together." Hyacinthe, who came in at that moment, shook hands with Gerard in a weary way.

He was twenty, and had inherited his mother's pale blond hair, and her long face full of Oriental languor; while from his father he had derived his grey eyes and thick lips, expressive of unscrupulous appetites.