The Shadow and the Star Read Online Free PDF Page A

began to smile. Really, men were so charmingly absurd.
    "Yes," the princess intoned. "The
mu'umu'u
of Japan silk." She spoke to her sister in yet another language, this one more liquid and lovely than the Japanese.
    Mr. Gerard smiled. "Japanese silk, is it?" He spoke to the Oriental ladies again, and received pleased nods and eager chatter. He looked back at the others and translated. "They wish to thank Your Majesty for the honor to their country."
    A series of courtesies were exchanged on this point, leaving everyone highly pleased with everyone else. Madame Elise clapped her hands, settling back into her overblown French manner.
    "Of course, ze flowing robe of white brocade, cut in ze Hawaiian mode. I see it describe in a page of
Ze Queen
periodical." She fluttered obsequiously. "Perhaps Their

Serene Highnesses wish it to be copied, if Her Majesty should be zo gracious as to permit?"
    It seemed that this was the case. Her Majesty showed herself perfectly satisfied to extend the favor to her estimable royal sisters from Japan. A footman was dispatched to escort the gown in question from the hotel; in the meanwhile, the fabric must be selected: it must be a pale brocade, and poor Mr. Gerard, as translator, was well and truly caught in the net of international fashion diplomacy.
    Leda hurried off to discover what the storeroom had to offer. She returned carrying five bolts of white and blond silk piled to her nose. As she stepped into the showroom, Mr. Gerard moved next to her, lifting the ponderous weight all at once from her arms.
    "Oh, no, please"—she was panting a little—"don't trouble yourself, sir."
    "No trouble." He spoke softly as he laid the bolts of fabric across the counter. Leda lowered her eyes, pretending to busy herself with the silk. She glanced up beneath her lashes. He was still looking at her.
    She could not fathom what was in his face. The moment she caught him at it, he turned away, and she could not decide if his interest was more than her hopeful imagination. Not that she wished him to take an interest: not here—never here; she could not bear that—not the kind of regard a man would have for a showroom woman. It was all mere whimsy, just an amazingly beautiful man—a splendid sight that she could not but admire.
    Still… he seemed, in a curious way, to be familiar to her. And yet that faultless masculine face was unforgettable; even the way he moved was memorable, with a controlled and concentrated grace in his dark, conservatively cut morning coat and winged collar. His broad shoulders, his tall stature, those remarkable dark lashes and gray eyes: already he was burned indelibly on her mind. She could only suppose she'd seen some illustration of a shining hero once, in a book, Prince Charming on his white steed�and here he was in Madame Elise's showroom, standing with pensive composure, surrounded by colorful silk and chattering women.
    The other showroom girls were taking whatever excuse they could find to come into the room. Word of Mr. Gerard had spread. As Leda unrolled an ivory brocade over the counter, she intercepted a downcast smirk from Miss Clark, who was making herself inordinately busy straightening up a counter that did not need straightening.
    Leda tried to check her by ignoring the smirk. Miss Myrtle had felt men to be something of an imposition on the world, not quite acceptable as topics of civil conversation, with the sole exception of
that unspeakable man
, who had evidently contained, entirely in himself, a complete repository of all the various and assorted incarnations of depravity to which the human soul was capable of sinking.
That unspeakable man
was therefore perfectly suitable as a conversation piece, and had in fact been abused for Leda's benefit and instruction with vigorous regularity in Miss Myrtle's drawing room over the years.
    Leda was a little wary of men. But finally she could not help giving a tiny grin back at Miss Clark.
    He was just too tremendous. He