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Ambroise--look at me! I
command you! Where did you find this treasure--cher ami!" Her seductive
voice lingered on the last words as if they were a morsel of delicious
fruit. He leaned heavily on the table and closed his eyes to shut out
her face--but he only saw scarlet. He heard scarlet.
"I--I--bought the thing because--you missed the other--" He could get no
further. She smiled, showing her celebrated teeth.
"You bought the thing--_hein_? You must be a prince in
disguise--Ambroise! And I have just lost _my_ Prince! Perhaps--you
thought--you audacious boy--"
He kept his eyes closed. She was in a corner of the room--quite
empty--the other waiters were on the terrace. She weighed his appearance
and smiled mysteriously; her smile, her glance, and her scarlet gowns
were her dramatic assets. Then she spoke in a low voice--a contralto
like the darker tones of an English horn:--
"I fancy I'll keep your thoughtful _gift_--Ambroise. And now, like a
good boy, get a fiacre for me!" She went away, leaving him standing in
the middle of the room, a pillar of burning ice.


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