“Oh, no.”

I took her in my arms and seated her in the lounging chair in the same position in which the Countess had placed her.

“You told her it was my favourite scent. Will you let me try it?”

“Ah!” murmured she, after a pause, which was more eloquent than all the speeches in the world. “She told me that you gave me no pleasure!”

“Do you know,” said I, “that the dear Countess wore her war dress? Has she not a nom de guerre? She very actively divested herself of her stays and gown. I thought I should see her in still more simple costume.”

“You would have been glad of that, you naughty boy!”

“I confess that your two bodies side by side would have formed a charming contrast.”

“A thing you never shall see, sir.”

“Who knows?”

“She is gone!”

“Nonsense, she will return.”

“You think she will return at once?”

“No.”

“Did you not see how angry she was?”

“I wager that before tomorrow morning she will write to you.”

“Must I accept the letter if one should come?”

“Yes; provided you let me see it.”

“Oh! of course I shall do nothing without your consent.”

“You promise?”

“I give you my word.”

“Then I leave you free to act.”

At that very moment someone tapped softly at the door, Violette knew at once it was the maid.

My clothes were disarranged, so I ran to the dressing room.

“Open the door,” I said.

The maid held a letter in her hand.

“Miss Violette,” said she, “the negro who came with the lady has just brought this for you.”

“Does he await a reply?”

“No, because he asked me to deliver it to you when you were alone.”

“You know Madame Leonie, that these precautions are quite useless, and that I have nothing to conceal from M. Christian.”

“Quite so, Miss. In any case, here is the letter.”