386 IN A WINTER CITY.
aU, be almost as monotonous as discontent—
when one is used to it. It is comforting to
think so ; for there is very little of it. I cannot
reaUze Miladi amongst the babies and the vrine-
presses; but you may be right."
" Well, you know she's tried everjrthing else,"
repeated Lord Ciairvaux. " It wUl be like
JuUus Caesar and his cabbage-garden."
" You mean Diocletian," said the Due. " Do
you leave to-night ? We may as weU go as far as
And he turned back into the hotel to bid
farewell to Madame Mila.
Madame MUa,—who had made the religious
and civU ceremonies gorgeous in the last new
anomalous anachronisms, with a classic and cUng-
ing dress, quite Greek in its cut, covered all
over with the ej'^es out of peacocks' feathers,
and a cotte de maille boddice, stiff as paste¬
board, with gold and silver embroideries,—was
now on the point of departure from the Winter
City across the Mont Cenis, and was covered up
in the most wonderful of hooded cloaks trimmed
'fith the feathers of the Russian diver and the