I caught a glimpse of a red, long face, very tired eyes, and hair of almost startling whiteness--the white hair of a comparatively young man, without any lustre of any sort--a dead white, like that of snow.

I remember that white hair with a feeling of horror, whilst I have almost forgotten the features of the great Baron de Halderschrodt.
I had still some of the feeling of having been in contact with a personality of the most colossal significance as we went down the red carpet of the broad white marble stairs.

With one foot on the lowest step, the figure of a perfectly clothed, perfectly groomed man was standing looking upward at our descent.

I had thought so little of him that the sight of the Duc de Mersch's face hardly suggested any train of emotions.

It lit up with an expression of pleasure.
"You," he said.
She stood looking down upon him from the altitude of two steps, looking with intolerable passivity.
"So you use the common stairs," she said, "one had the idea that you communicated with these people through a private door." He laughed uneasily, looking askance at me.
"Oh, I ..." he said.
She moved a little to one side to pass him in her descent.
"So things have arranged themselves--_la bas_," she said, referring, I supposed, to the elective grand duchy.
"Oh, it was like a miracle," he answered, "and I owed a great deal--a great deal--to your hints...." "You must tell me all about it to-night," she said.
De Mersch's face had an extraordinary quality that I seemed to notice in all the faces around me--a quality of the flesh that seemed to lose all luminosity, of the eyes that seemed forever to have a tendency to seek the ground, to avoid the sight of the world.