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He bubbled like champagne. And when champagne winks and
foams at the edge of the shining glass, do the young think of, or care
for, the sober gravity, the lingering bouquet of claret, even if it be
Chateau Margaux?
As Artois half listened to the young people, while he talked quietly
with Hermione, playing the host with discretion, he felt the peculiar
cruelty which ordains that the weapons of youth, even if taken up and
used by age with vigor and competence, shall be only reeds in those
hands whose lines tell of the life behind.
Yet how Vere and he had laughed together on the day of his return from
Paris! One gust of such mutual laughter is worth how many days of
earnest talk!
Vere was gleaming with fun to-night.
The waiters, as they went softly about the table, looked at her with
kind eyes. Secretly they were enjoying her gayety because it was so
pretty. Her merriment was as airy as the flight of a bird.
The Marchesino was entranced. Did she care for that?
Artois wondered secretly, and was not sure.


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