All this time he had done nothing but gaze at the Duchess of
Scerni with the ecstatic look of a _bonze_ in presence of the divinity.
His broad flat face, which might have come straight out of a page of
O-kou-sai, the great classical humorist, gleamed red among the chains of
flowers like a harvest moon.
'Sakumi is in love,' said Andrea in a low voice, and leaning over
towards Elena.
'With whom?'
'With you--have you not observed it yet?'
'No.'
'Well, look at him.'
Elena looked across at him. The amorous gaze of the disguised _daimio_
suddenly affected her with such ill-disguised mirth that the Japanese
felt deeply hurt and humiliated.
'See,' she said, and to console him she detached a white camellia and
threw it across the table to the envoy of the Rising Sun,--'find some
comparison in praise of me!'
The Oriental carried the flower to his lips with a ludicrous air of
devotion.
'Ah--ah--Sakumi!' cried the little Baroness d'Isola, 'you are unfaithful
to me!'
He stammered a few words while his face flamed. Everybody laughed
unrestrainedly, as if the foreigner had been invited solely to provide
entertainment for the other guests. Andrea turned laughing towards
Elena.
Her head was raised and a little thrown back, and she was gazing
furtively at the young man under her eyelashes with one of those
indescribably feminine glances which seem to absorb--almost one would
say drink in--all that is most desirable, most delectable in the man of
their choice.
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