Her demeanour was the same as on the first
night he had seen her, hardly raising her eyes, eating little of the
most exquisite food, and appearing totally unconscious of her
neighbours or their ways.
She caused a flutter of excitement at the English table, the only
other party, except two old men in a corner, who had dined so late,
and they were half-way through their repast before she began
hers. Paul was annoyed to see how they stared--stared at _his_
lady. But what joy it was to sit there and realise that she was
his--his very own! And only four nights ago he had been a rude
stranger, too, criticising her every movement, and drinking too much
port with annoyance over it all. And now his whole life was changed.
He saw with new eyes, and heard with new ears, even his casual
observation was altered and sharpened, so that he noticed the texture
of the cloth and the quality of the glass, and the shape of the room
and its decoration.
And how insupportably commonplace the good English family seemed! That
bread-and-butter miss with her pink cheeks and fluffy hair, without a
hat! Women's hair should be black and grow in heavy waves. He was
certain of that now. How like them to come into a foreign restaurant
hatless, just because they were English and must impose their customs!
He sat and mused on it all, as he looked at his velvet-clad Queen.
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