It requires a certain mental reserve from which to extract cheerfulness over a chop and a pint of beer withal, served on a doubtful cloth.

But some of us find it easy enough to be witty and brilliant over good wine and a perfectly appointed table.
"It is exile; it is nothing short of exile," protested Vassili, who led the conversation.

"Much as I admire my own country, as a country, I do not pretend to regret a fate that keeps me resident in Paris.

For men it is different, but for madame, and for you, mademoiselle--ach!" He shrugged his shoulders and looked up to the ceiling in mute appeal to the gods above it.

"Beauty, brilliancy, wit--they are all lost in Russia." He bowed to the princess, who was looking, and to Maggie, who was not.
"What would Paris say if it knew what it was losing ?" he added in a lower tone to Etta, who smiled, well pleased.