"How very fortunate that you met her!" said Madame Mila, with a little saucy laugh. "She will kill herself riding that horrid Saïd some day—perhaps she will listen to you if you tell her not. What was it I wanted to say,—oh, I want a very good box for the Veglione. You are one of the directors of the opera, are you not?"
"Yes."
"I thought so. Well, mind I have one; big enough to hold the supper table comfortably; and see Maurice about it, and dine with me tomorrow, will you? Nina and Olga and the usual people. Dear me, how these horses do fidget. How very nice that you should have met dear Hilda just when she'd lost her way!
Good bye; but, of course, you'll be at the Roubleskoffs' to-night? I wish it wasn't costume. I'm England, and I'm embroidered all over with Union Jacks; and I have a little Khedive on a gold stick that keeps tumbling up and down; and I carry a ship in full sail on the top of my head. I assure you it's very trying to be a Naval Power. How ever I shall be able to waltz with that ship!———"
