94 IN A WINTER CITY.
south, is only a tradition, smothered under cigar-
ash, and buried in a gun-case.
As for lUm, he mused, while he talked to her, on
the words of the Due, who had known her aU her
life. Was it true that she had never felt even a
passing "weakness?" Was it certain that she
had always been as cold as she looked ?
He wished that he could be sure.
After aU, she was a woman of wonderful charm,
though she did go about with Madame MUa,
smoke cigarettes after dinner, and correct you as
to the last mot made on the boulevards. He be¬
gan to think that this was only the mere cachet
of the world she Uved in; only the mere accident
of contact and habit.
AU women born under the Second Empire
have it more or less; and, after aU, she had but
Uttle of it; she was very serene, very contemp¬
tuous, very high-bred; and her brilliant langmd
hazel eyes looked so untroubled that it would
have moved any man into a wish to trouble thefr
still and luminous depths.
She seemed to him very objectless and some¬
what cynical. It was a pity. Nature had made