Even of
Adrienne's nationality she was in ignorance, merely understanding,
along with the rest of the world, that she was of French extraction.
This assumption had probably been founded in the first instance upon
her name, and Adrienne never troubled either to confirm or contradict
it.
Mrs. Adams, her companion-chaperon, always made Diana especially
welcome at the house in Somervell Street.
"You must come again soon, my dear," she would say cordially.
"Adrienne makes few friends--and your visits are such a relaxation to
her. The life she leads is rather a strain, you know."
At times Diana noticed a curious aloofness in her friend, as though her
professional success occupied a position of relatively small importance
in her estimation, and once she had commented on it half jokingly.
"You don't seem to value your laurels one bit," she had said, as
Adrienne contemptuously tossed aside a newspaper containing a eulogy of
her claims to distinction which most actresses would have carefully cut
out and pasted into their book of critiques.
"Fame?" Adrienne had answered. "What is it? Merely the bubble of a
day."
"Well," returned Diana, laughing, "it's the aim and object of a good
many people's lives. It's the bubble I'm in pursuit of, and if I
obtain one half the recognition you have had, I shall be very content."
Adrienne regarded her musingly.
"You will be famous when the name of Adrienne de Gervais is known no
longer," she said at last.
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