Andre.
Was this beautiful girl born under some unlucky star that she should
have to know and associate with such creatures? Calvert had only met her
the night before, and already he had seen her twice with a man whose
very presence was contaminating. 'Twas almost with the fear of finding
some visible sign of that debasing influence upon the fair face beside
him that he turned and looked at Madame de St. Andre. It would have been
impossible for anyone to have looked more innocently charming. The court
beauty was in eclipse, and in her place was a radiant, gracious young
girl. Perhaps it was the short, fur-trimmed dress she wore and the small
cap with its tuft of heron plumes, a fashion lately set by the Princess
de Lamballe, which gave her that childish air. Or, more possibly, it was
the unaccustomed look of embarrassment upon her face and a half-laughing
petulance as of a naughty child caught in mischief.
"Good-day, Monsieur l'Americain," she said, gayly, smiling into the
serious face Calvert turned toward her. "Will you forgive me for
pressing you into service in so offhand a manner?--but perhaps you were
looking for me?"
"No, Madame," returned Calvert, calmly, as they skated slowly toward the
Quai des Tuileries, "but 'tis a pleasure to be of service to you.
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