If Mrs. Plumston did not understand, Count Selim Malagaski understood.
So did all the young men who were watching the pantomime. And Kalora
understood. She looked up and saw the lurking smiles on the faces of the
two gallants who were carrying her, and later the tittering became
louder and some of the young men laughed aloud.
She leaped from her chair and turned upon her two tormentors.
"How dare you?" she exclaimed. "You are making sport of me in the
presence of my father's guests! You have a contempt for me because I am
ugly. You mock at me in private because you hear that I am thin. You
wish to learn the truth about me. Well, I will tell you. I _am_ thin. I
weigh one hundred and eighteen pounds."
She was speaking loudly and defiantly, and all the young men were
backing away, dismayed at the outbreak. Her father elbowed his way among
them, white with terror, and attempted to pacify her.
"Be still, my child!" he commanded. "You don't know what you are
saying!"
"Yes, I do know what I am saying!" she persisted, her voice rising
shrilly. "Do they wish to know about me? Must they know the truth? Then
look! _Look_!"
With sweeping outward gestures she threw off the soft quilted robes
gathered about her, tore away the veil and stood before them in a white
gown that fairly revealed every modified in-and-out of her figure.
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