estate upon the Hudson River and he had for the first time seen the lives of the great American millionaires.
With La Marquise de Mornaye he was not conscious of that exactly mannered style—most mannered in its very affectation of simplicity—that vulgar arrogance which he had felt among the rich Americans of Joel Pierce’s class. La Marquise was plain as an old shoe, vigorous and lusty as a peasant, and completely an aristocrat—magnificently herself, without an ounce of affectation—a woman Joel Pierce’s people would have fawned upon and to whom they would have given a king’s ransom if by so doing they could have bought for son or daughter an alliance with her family.
La Marquise seated him beside her, the Countess opposite her, and at once they began to eat. The food was magnificent, there was a different wine of royal vintage (brought up from the famous cellar of the château) with every course. La Marquise left no doubt at all about the robust nature of her appetite, and by everything she did and was—the plain shrewdness, warmth, and sensible humanity of her nature—she made it plain that she expected her guests to eat heartily also, and not to be too nice and dainty about it either.
“Ven vun is younk as you are,” she said, turning with a smile to her young guest, “he is’ongry often—non?” she inquired. She put her soup-spoon to her mouth, swallowed some soup, and smacking her lips with an air of relish, turned to the youth again, and said plainly and positively:
“Eet ees good! Oui! I s’ink you will like it, too.” Turning to the Countess, who had tasted nothing, she said severely:
“Vy do you vait, my dear? Are you not’ongry? You must eat.”
“Ah—hah—hah!” the Countess said with a little undecided laugh, her eyes greedily fixed upon the smoking soup. “—You know, my dear, I am on a diet by the doctor’s orders—sang de cheval, you know,” she chattered in a distracted tone as her greedy eyes went ravenously along the table—“I eat almost nothing—really, my dear, I don’t think I should.” She snatched up a piece of bread in one greedy little claw, broke it with an appetizing crackle, and began to cram it into her mouth like a starved animal—“Ah—hah—hah!” The poor starved old woman laughed with almost hysterical delight, and tried to speak with a mouth full of bread—“I know I shouldn’t—but you always have such delicious food, my dear.” She lifted the soup-spoon, and drew in with a long slobbering
