spiritual and physical. It was all something quite new in his experience, the room, the table, the service, the company.
He could not keep his eyes from continually straying sidewise to his hostess. Never had he seen color in human flesh so regally set: the rich and flowing grace of the dress out of which rose so darkly splendid the jeweled flesh. The black and purple hair was heaped up on her little head, and in its depths gleamed a tiny coronet of gold. Her voice and her poise, her self-possession and air of quiet command, kept Matthew staring almost unmannerly, despite the fact that he somehow sensed a shade of resentment in the young and handsome Indian opposite.
They had eaten some delicious tidbits of meat and vegetables and then were served with a delicate soup when the Princess, turning slightly to her right, said:
“You will note, Mr. Towns, that we represent here much of the Darker World. Indeed, when all our circle is present, we represent all of it, save your world of Black Folk.”
“All the darker world except the darkest,” said the Egyptian.
“A pretty large omission,” said Matthew with a smile.
“I agree,” said the Chinaman; but the Arab said something abruptly in French. Matthew had said that he knew “some” French. But his French was of the American variety which one excavates from dictionaries and cements with grammar, like bricks. He was astounded at the ease and the fluency with which most of this company used languages, so easily, without groping or hesitation and with light, sure shading. They talked art in French, literature in Italian, politics in German, and everything in clear English.
“M. Ben Ali suggests,” said the Princess, “that even you are not black, Mr. Towns.”
“My grandfather was, and my soul is. Black blood with us in America is a matter of spirit and not simply of flesh.”
“Ah! mixed blood,” said the Egyptian.
“Like all of us, especially me,” laughed the Princess.
“But, your Royal Highness—not Negro,” said the elder Indian in a tone that hinted a protest.
“Essentially,” said the Princess lightly, “as our black and curly-haired Lord Buddha testifies in a hundred places. But”—
