babies in themselves. They, too, like dancing and diamonds, were to be part of her parure, not part of herself.
Nor was her scheme to lack its intellectual triumphs. She must have wit, so that the world hung on her words as it must hang upon her beauty, and she must make la pluie et le beau temps in the world of art, by her approval or censure, just as she must set the fashions by her gowns. It would be musicians whom she would ask to her opera-box, who came with her for love of music, just as in the theatre she would be the centre of those of critical and dramatic acumen. In the intoxication of ambition that was on her at the moment she felt herself despising the ordinary woman of the world, to whom a quantity of smart gowns worn at a quantity of smart parties is sufficient to make a success of a season, those who went from party to party with nothing in their heads but what they were going to do next. She would be kind, too, philanthropic, ready to place herself and her time at the service of suffering, since it was undeniably in the fashion to work hard and to be charitable. Besides, she felt that if she really had all she wanted, she would be kind in nature not only for show. Happiness, the gratification of ambition, the gaining what one wants, she was convinced was a great softener of the heart.
Then for a moment a shadow fell across the projeted path—what afterwards? What when she had got all she desired, when age began to tarnish the gold of her youth, when the leanness of accomplished ambitions began to wrinkle her soul? But the doubt was no more than the shade cast by a passing cloud on a day of windy spring, and it had gone almost before she knew it was there. It would be early enough to think of that at the end of fifty years; it was sheer waste of time to consider it now. Besides, she felt she would pay any price for what she meant to have, provided only the bill was sent in afterwards, presented to her at the end of life, as the waiter brings the account at the end of dinner. She would have dined, that was all that mattered, and in whatever form the waiter came, and whatever astounding indebtedness he brought with him, it could not but be cheap. Only let her have everything, and she would pay whatever was demanded.
But for a moment more the shadow gave her pause, and she thought more closely to see whether in her heart of hearts she reserved anything, or whether, like Faust, she would sign her very
