Mr. and Mrs. Granger made their way to the inner room by and by. It was the
prettiest room of the three, with a great semi-circular window overlooking
nothing particular in the daytime, but making a handsome amber-hung recess
at night. Here there was a sea-coal fire _a l'anglaise_, and only a subdued
glimmering of wax candles, instead of the broad glare in the larger
saloons. Here, too were to be found the choicest of Madame Caballero's
guests; a cabinet minister, an ambassador, a poet of some standing, and one
of the most distinguished soprano's of the season, a fair-haired German
girl, with great pathetic blue eyes.
Even in this society Madame Caballero was rejoiced to see her sweet Mrs.
Granger and her charming Miss Granger, who was looking unutterably stiff,
in mauve silk and white lace. The lady and her friends had been talking of
some one as the Grangers entered, talking rapturously.
"_J'en raffole!_" exclaimed Madame; "such a charming young man, gifted with
talents of the most original order."
The ambassador was looking at a portrait--the likeness of Madame Caballero
herself--a mere sketch in oils, with a mark of the brush upon it, but
remarkable for the _chic_ and daring of the painter's style, and for that
idealised resemblance which is always so agreeable to the subject.
Clarissa's heart gave a little throb. The picture was like one she had seen
on the easel in the Rue du Chevalier Bayard.
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