see nor think of anything but of that Etruscan vase.
"How absurd," cries a critic, "to suspect his mistress from such a trifle!"
"Have you ever been in love, my dear critic?"
Thémines was in too good a humour to take offence at the tone Saint-Clair had used when speaking to him, and replied lightly and with great good nature —
"I can only repeat what I heard in Society. It passed as a true story while you were in Germany. However, I scarcely know Madam de Coursy. It is eighteen months since I was at her house. Very likely I am wrong, and the story was a fabrication of Massigny's. But let us return to our discussion, for whether my illustration be false or not does not affect my point. You all know that the cleverest woman in France, whose works———"
The door opened, and Theodore Neville came in. He had just returned from Egypt.
"Theodore, you have soon come back!" He was overwhelmed with questions.
"Have you brought back a real Turkish costume?" asked Thémines. "Have you got an Arabian horse and an Egyptian groom?"
"What sort of man is the Pasha?" said
