"Perhaps Mahomet will come to the--er--em--to you, madame."
It was her turn to laugh; but I soon learned that my suggestion was no
good to her, and for a very simple reason.
"Ah," she said, "men are strange creatures, Britten. When we will,
they will not; and when we will not, why, then they give us jewellery.
I can't go back to Paris. If I do, a police officer goes with me."
"Take him on the box and call him a footman--unless you prefer to make
for London right away, madame."
She was emphatic about this.
"I can't, Britten! I must stay in Paris. It is my last chance of
seeing Count Joseph before he returns to Vienna for the summer. Oh, is
there no way? Is it quite impossible?"