"My dear child," she said, "that's a woman who fulfils all the
promises of her girlhood. She is a Grandlieu, to be sure, but she's as
brown as her mother the Portuguese, not to say yellow, and as dry and
stiff as her father. To tell the truth, your wife will never go wrong;
she's a big boy who can take care of herself. Poor Calyste! is that
the sort of woman you needed? She has fine eyes, but such eyes are
very common in Italy and in Spain and Portugal. Can any woman be
tender with bones like hers. Eve was fair; brown women descend from
Adam, blondes come from the hand of God, which left upon Eve his last
thought after he had created her."

About six o'clock Calyste, driven to desperation, took his hat to
depart.

"Yes, go, my poor friend," she said; "don't give her the annoyance of
dining without you."

Calyste stayed. At his age it was so easy to snare him on his worst
side.

"What! you dare to dine with me?" said Beatrix, playing a provocative
amazement. "My poor food does not alarm you? Have you enough
independence of soul to crown me with joy by this little proof of your
affection?"

"Let me write a note to Sabine; otherwise she will wait dinner for me
till nine o'clock."

"Here," said Beatrix, "this is the table at which I write."