"I can't do that."
"No? Perhaps you can't. Walk up to them, send him away, and make your love to her. I'll wait for you here. You'll like to see me before the night's out."
I looked at him for a moment.
"Shall I like to see you?" I asked.
"Yes," he answered. "The olive after the sweets." He laughed, not bitterly, I thought, but ruefully.
"So be it," I said. "Stay here."
I started off, but he had laid a cold hand on my heart. I was to want him; then I should be no lover, for a lover wants but one. Yet I nerved myself and cried again loudly, "Varvilliers!" This time I was answered. I saw him and Elsa coming toward me; his voice sounded merry and careless as he shouted, "Here I am, sire"; a moment later they stood before me. No, there was no ground for Wetter's hint, and could be none. Both were merely happy and gay, both utterly unembarrassed.
"Somebody wants you inside, Varvilliers," said I, with a nod.
He laughed, bowed gracefully to Elsa, and ran off. He took his dismissal without a sign of grudge. I turned to her.
"Oh, dear," she said with a little yawn, "I'm tired. It must be very late."
I caught her by both hands.
"Late!" I cried. "Not too late, Elsa!" I bent down and kissed both her hands. "Why did you run away?" I asked.
"I didn't know you wanted me," she said in a sort of wonder.
I looked full in her eyes, and I knew that there
