"I have seen her before at the Tuileries and at Trouville, but I do not know her at all. I was never presented."
"That will arrange itself easily," said the Duc de St. Louis, who was one of those who had raised their hats; "Maremma is perfectly right; it is in every way the very thing for you. Moi, je m'en charge."
The Duca della Rocca shrugged his shoulders a very little, and lighted a fresh cigar. But his face grew grave, and he looked thoughtfully after the black horses, and the white and black liveries.
At the English reception that night, which the Lady Hilda disdainfully likened in her own mind to a penal settlement, M. de St. Louis, whom she knew very well, begged to be permitted to present to her his friend the Duca della Rocca.
She was dressed like a mediæval saint of a morning; at night she was a mediæval princess.
She had feuille morte velvet slashed with the palest of ambers; a high fraise; sleeves of the renaissance; pointed shoes, and a great many
