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to his mind； even the fine dress of the good fairy sitting opposite him； who still maintained some of the grand airs with which she had equipped herself in advance for the solemn occasion。 This thought troubled him； spoiled for him the pleasure of being there。
On the other hand； by contrast； as it happens in all friendships between two people who meet very rarely； never had he seen Felicia so affectionate； in such happy temper。 It was an overflowing gaiety that was almost childish； one of those warm expansions of feeling that are experienced when a danger has been passed； the reaction of a bright roaring fire after the emotion of a shipwreck。 She laughed heartily； teased Paul about his accent and what she called his /bourgeois/ ideas。 〃For you are a terrible /bourgeois/； you know。 But it is that that I like in you。 It is an effect of contraries； doubtless； it is because I myself was born under a bridge； in a gust of wind； that I have always liked sedate； reasonable natures。〃
〃Oh； my child； what are you going to have M。 Paul think； that you were born under a bridge？〃 said the good Crenmitz； who could not accustom herself to the exaggeration of certain metaphors； and always took everything literally。
〃Let him think what he likes； my fairy。 We are not trying to catch him for a husband。 I am sure he would not want one of those monsters who are known as female artists。 He would think he was marrying the devil。 You are quite right； Minerva。 Art is a despot。 One has to give one's self entirely up to him。 To toil in his service； one devotes all the ideal； all the energy； honesty； conscience； that one possesses； so that you have none of these things left for real life； and the completed labour throws you down； strengthless and without a compass； like a dismantled hulk at the mercy of every wave。 A sorry acquisition； such a wife！〃
〃And yet；〃 the young man hazarded timidly； 〃it seems to me that art； however exigent it be； cannot for all that entirely absorb a woman。 What would she do with her affections； of that need to love； to devote herself； which in her； much more than in us； is the spring of all her actions？〃
She mused a moment before replying。
〃Perhaps you are right； wise Minerva。 It is true that there are days when my life rings terribly hollow。 I am conscious of abysses； profound chasms in it。 Everything that I throw in to fill it up disappears。 My finest enthusiasms of the artist are engulfed there and die each time in a sigh。 And then I think of marriage。 A husband； childrena swarm of children； who would roll about the studio； a nest to look after for them all； the satisfaction of that physical activity which is lacking in our existences of artists； regular occupations； high spirits； songs； innocent gaieties； which would oblige you to play instead of thinking in the air； in the darkto laugh at a wound to one's self…love； to be only a contented mother on the day when the public should see you as a worn…out； exhausted artist。〃
And before this tender vision the girl's beauty took on an expression which Paul had never seen in it before； an expression which gripped his whole being； and gave him a mad longing to carry off in his arms that beautiful wild bird； dreaming of the home…cote； to protect and shelter it in the sure love of an honest man。
She； without looking at him； continued：
〃I am not so erratic as I appear； don't think it。 Ask my good godmother if； when she sent me to boarding…school； I did not observe the rules。 But what a muddle in my life afterward。 If you knew what sort of an early youth I had； how precocious an experience tarnished my mind； in the head of the little girl I was； what a confusion of the permitted and the forbidden； of reason and folly！ Art alone； extolled and discussed； stood out boldly from among it all； and I took refuge in it。 That is perhaps why I shall never be anything but an artist； a woman apart from others； a poor Amazon with heart imprisoned in her iron cuirass； launched into the conflict like a man； and as a man condemned to live and die。〃
Why did he not say to her； at this：
〃Beauteous lady…warrior； lay down your arms； resume the flowing robe and the graces of the woman's sphere。 I love you！ Marry me； I implore you； and win happiness both for yourself and for me。〃
Ah； there it is！ He was afraid lest the otheryou know him； the man who was to have come to dinner that evening and who remained between them despite his absenceshould hear him speak thus and be in a position to jest at or to pity him for that fine outburst。
〃In any case； I firmly swear one thing；〃 she resumed； 〃and it is that if ever I have a daughter； I will try to make a true woman of her； and not a poor lonely creature like myself。 Oh！ you know； my fairy； it is not for you that I say that。 You have always been kind to your demon； full of attentions and tenderness。 But just see how pretty she is； how young she looks this evening。〃
Animated by the meal； the bright lights； one of those white dresses the reflection from which effaces wrinkles； the Crenmitz； leaning back in her chair； held up on a level with her half…closed eyes a glass of Chateau…Yquem； come from the cellar of the neighbouring Moulin…Rouge； and her dainty little rosy face； her flowing garments； like those you might see in some pastel； reflected in the golden wine； which lent to them its own piquant fervour； recalled to mind the quondam heroine of gay little suppers after the theatre； the Crenmitz of the brave old daysnot an audacious creature after the manner of the stars of our modern opera； but unconscious； and wrapped in her luxury like a fine pearl in the delicate whiteness of its shell。 Felicia； who decidedly that evening was anxious to please everybody； turned her mind gently to the chapter of recollections； got her to recount once more her great triumphs in /Gisella/； in the /Peri/； and the ovations of the public； the visit of the princes to her dressing…room； the present of Queen Amelia； accompanied by such a charming little speech。 The recalling of these glories intoxicated the poor fairy； her eyes shone； they heard her little feet moving impatiently under the table as though seized by a dancing frenzy。 And in effect； dinner over； when they had returned to the studio； Constance began to walk backward and forward； now and then half executing a step； a pirouette； while continuing to talk； interrupting herself to hum some ballad air of which she would keep the rhythm with a movement of the head； then suddenly she bent herself double； and with a bound was at the other end of the studio。
〃Now she is off！〃 said Felicia in a low voice to de Gery。 〃Watch！ It is worth your while； you are going to see the Crenmitz dance。〃
It was charming and fairy…like。 Against the background of the immense room lost in shadow and receiving almost no light save through the arched glass roof over which the moon was climbing in a pale sky of night blue； a veritable sky of the opera； the silhouette of the famous dancer stood out all white； like a droll little shadow； light and imponderable； which seemed rather to be flying in the air than springing over the floor； then； erect upon the tips of her toes； supported in the air only by her extended