Monsieur Roche waltzed divinely, and so thoroughly original was that
charming man that he never once made allusion to either the crush or the
heat. Yet they were both insufferable.
We strolled into the conservatory, and, taking my fan from my hand, he
gently waved it before me, keeping time to the distant strains of the
waltz, which we preferred to sit out.
"To be beautiful and accomplished," he murmured, as he seated himself
beside me, "is no excuse for idleness when a woman is also brilliant."
I recognized the prelude to a commission, and became attentive, for I
was _ennui_ of the tiring pleasures that make up the daily routine of
the existence of a woman of fashion.
"It is different from the English affair," he whispered, reflectively.
"And so it need be!" I replied, a little testily, for Gaspard Levive and
I had been somewhat ill at ease with each other since we journeyed
_tete-a-tete_ from London to Paris.
"It is what a woman's soul craves for--romance."
"A commission from Monsieur le Premier, and yet romantic," I cried, with
a laugh. "Monsieur fears to plead his own cause, and would send a
persuasive ambassador, _n'est ce pa_?"
"One as skilful in tact and diplomacy as she is in herself perfection,"
the flatterer answered; and then, "It is not a service to myself," he
added, somewhat stiffly, for my bachelor friend was sensitive on these
little matters, and rather prided himself on a flattering unction that
he laid to his soul, that no woman in Paris--but I wander, for as he
spoke I took my fan abruptly from his hand, and gazed severely right
through his perplexed face into the ballroom beyond.
"I fail to understand," I said, stonily. "A commission from some one
else? Are my services, then, at the command of any one who condescends
to require them?"
He put out his hand deprecatingly.
"I imagined," I said, fluttering my fan viciously, "that I dealt with
diplomats who regarded my service as much their secret as my own;" and I
spoke with warmth, for I felt I had deserved better of him than this.
From my heart I loved these commissions for the excitement they afforded
me, and not for mere gain; for what was that to me? My most hazardous
adventure brought me the souvenir I chose--a plain gold bangle engraved
with the date; my most romantic, a diamond necklace worthy of an
empress.
Monsieur Roche stayed the fan that I was fluttering wildly in my
indignation, and gently took my fingers in his own.
"Why is a woman the sternest critic--the harshest judge of her best
friends?" he asked. "You are an accomplished woman, a clever woman, a
beautiful woman, and yet--"
"Simply a woman," I interjected.
"And therefore as lacking in reason as all others of your sex, and as
prone to jump at erroneous conclusions. No one in the world knows of
what you call your Secret Service save those whom you have met and
defeated, and they would be the last to proclaim it."
I felt miserably repentant--what creatures of impulse even the cleverest
of women are!--so, smiling upon him, I handed back the fan.
"The vanquished must deliver up his sword," I cried. "I own I was in the
wrong, so take a woman's weapon as a sign."
"My dearest friend is in Paris," he said, as he slowly waved the
ostrich-plumes, "and in great trouble."