He has not sung 'Ca Ira' at the theatres, and he
detests the tricolored cockades as much as you do."
The Baron laughed in spite of himself, and began to thaw. There was a
little more friendliness in his next glance at me.
"What images have you brought in, Mr. Ritchie?" he asked. "We all
worship the sex in some form, however misplaced our notions of it."
There is not the least doubt that, for the sake of the Vicomtesse, he was
trying to be genial, and that his remark was a purely random one. But
the roots of my hair seemed to have taken fire. I saw the Baron as in a
glass, darkly. But I kept my head, principally because the situation had
elements of danger.
"The image of Madame la Vicomtesse, Monsieur," I said.
"Dame!" exclaimed his Excellency, eying me with a new interest, "I did
not suspect you of being a courtier."
"No more he is, Monsieur le Baron," said the Vicomtesse, "for he speaks
the truth."
His Excellency looked blank. As for me, I held my breath, wondering what
coup Madame was meditating.
"Mr. Ritchie brought down from Kentucky a miniature of me by Boze, that
was painted in a costume I once wore at Chantilly."
"Comment! diable," exclaimed the Baron. "And how did such a thing get
into Kentucky, Madame?"
"You have brought me to the point," she replied, "which is no small
triumph for your Excellency.
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