jealous had not been a success; and I now found Mr. Cheremenieff and his stamps doubly tiresome.
I was eating my ice in silence, deserted for the moment by both neighbors, when Mr. Thurber's voice broke upon my ear:—
"Russian women are extremely brilliant, and are also good talkers; but there are no women as beautiful as Americans, you know."
I was forced to admit that he was right, judging from those who were present. "What a pity," I exclaimed, "that they do not always behave as well as they look!"
"Do they not?" asked my companion.
"What an unnecessary question for a man who has travelled as much as you have!"
At that moment Alice rose from the table, and we were obliged to follow her example. The gentlemen accompanied the ladies back to the drawing-room. Mr. Thurber looked at me inquiringly.
"Do you allow me to follow the Russian custom?" he asked.
"What custom?" said I, somewhat puzzled.
He pointed to Prince Tucheff, who was kissing Judith's hand, and murmuring something about "mille remerciements," and who repeated the performance with Alice. All the gentlemen followed his example, thanking the ladies whom they had escorted, and then the hostess in the same manner. The Russian ladies also approached Alice, shook hands with and thanked her.
