"Madame," says I, "I'm very sorry, but I took the first one that came
along and answered to the name. It must have been the head waiter's
fault."
She clenched her hands and began to step up and down the room, wild
with perplexity.
"It was all planned, Britten--all planned. They knew that I should
send for Count Joseph, and this villain came from Vienna to thwart me.
He must have bribed the servants at the hotel. And now, what do you
say to it? I am to be banished from France--he swears it. They have
written to Paris, and the decree may come at any moment. I am to be
banished, Britten--driven out like a common criminal! Oh, what shall I
do? My God, what shall I do?"
That was a question I couldn't answer, but it did seem a wicked thing
to treat a woman so, and I wasn't ashamed to admit it.
"Is there any law in France that can turn you out, madame?" I asked.
She answered that quickly enough.
"Certainly there is, Britten. I know all about it. They can turn me
out at twenty-four hours' notice."
"Why not go to the American Consulate, madame?"
"Oh, you don't understand. If my husband were but here! Oh, they
would not insult me then--even if you were my husband, Britten."
Upon my life and soul, I believe that she meant it. There was a look
in her eyes as she stood before me which, unless I'm the biggest fool
in Christendom, told me what was what plainly enough. A word, and I
could have taken that fine lady in my arms. I would swear to it.
And what forbade me, you ask? Well, perhaps I'd heard a smash of glass
last night, and perhaps I hadn't; but I do believe it was that porter's
foolish remark about "votes for women" which put me off more than
anything else. So I drew back a step and answered her with more
respect than ever.
"I'll see that nobody insults you while I am your servant, madame. If
I may make a suggestion, I would advise you to leave this town."
She looked at me thoughtfully.
"And where should I go, Britten?"
"Back to Paris, madame--they won't interfere with you there."
"But my husband--my dear husband?"