"Those are the Holbeins," said a woman, who at that moment came with
another to a seat near the cure's inconspicuous corner. "They represent
the ideal vulgarity. Rich beyond the dreams of reasonable avarice! When
the mother and father die, the girl's last tribute to their memory will
be to order them bijou tombstones. And _they_ are the sort of people
those wretched Dauntreys are driven to know!"
The cure, catching a name made familiar to him earlier in the day,
turned his head to glance at his neighbours, who were seating themselves
at a small round table. At the same time one of the two women, the one
who had not spoken, looked at him. Instant recognition flashed in the
eyes of both. The lady bowed with distant politeness, and he returned
the courtesy. She it was who had come to him at Roquebrune, one day
weeks ago, asking for news of Prince Della Robbia, of whose acquaintance
with him she was evidently informed.
She was dressed more elaborately this afternoon. The cure had described
her to Vanno as wearing a gray travelling dress. To-day she was in
black, with a large velvet hat which set off her pale face, her pale
eyes and hair, making her look striking and almost handsome; younger,
too, than the cure had thought, though she had no air of girlishness.
"Idina Bland" was the name Vanno had ejaculated, on hearing her
description; and he had gone on to say that she was a distant relative,
who had lived for some time in Rome and at Monte Della Robbia.
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