part in their conversation, and was glad when Jerome by a gesture called me to follow him away.
"Let us go to see Madame," he said simply, when we were entirely out of hearing.
"Du Maine?" I inquired, vaguely wondering why we should venture into the lion's den.
"No—Madame—the other," he replied with some degree of hesitation.
I followed him without further questioning. He led the way, which was doubtless a familiar one, and the maid at the door, knowing him, admitted us at once to Madame's apartment. The woman, who sat alone in the dainty silk-hung boudoir, rose and came swiftly forward to greet Jerome, the radiant girlish smile changing quickly when she perceived me enter behind him. It was more the grande dame, and less the delighted woman, who acknowledged my presentation with courtly grace. Intuitively I felt her unvoiced inquiry of Jerome why he had not come alone. Yet was she thoroughly polite, and chatted pleasantly with us concerning the news of the day.
"We are to have a fete this afternoon; you must both come. Each guest is expected to contribute in some way to the entertainment of the company. You Jerome—M. de Greville," she begged pardon with a sudden glance at me, "You, M. de Greville, will doubtless favour us with a well-turned madrigal. And you, my dear Captain de Mouret, in which direction do your talents lie?"
