A Diplomatic Woman Part 3

Half suspiciously, half in a fas.h.i.+on of tenderness, he held a match to the cigarette, and then, almost before the paper had caught, it dropped through my fingers to the ground; and I, with a laugh at my carelessness, placed my heel upon it and edged it beneath my skirt.

My shoe pressed upon it lightly, my lips smiled apologetically, yet murmured, "_Merci_, monsieur," as I awaited another to replace it.

I saw his features tighten as his eyes followed my movements, yet what could he do? Realizing that I had discovered him, and I could not but feel that he knew it, he gave me another, and I lighted it.

For a second we measured glances, and I knew that he fathomed my plans as truly as I did his.

"You are a clever little devil!" he said, with almost a touch of appreciation.

"Monsieur!"

"You have my cigarette under your shoe, but what of that? In a minute I shall offer you my arm, you will take it, we shall go to the ballroom and dance the cotillion."

"You are sure?"

"Perfectly. I have only to raise my voice and say 'The air is cool,' and the Countess will understand; she will rejoin us, and that being so, a lady cannot search for a half-burned cigarette. You have the desire of your quest within your reach, and yet as far removed as the north is from the south."

I looked disdainfully at him and calmly smoked.

"You are too clever to waste yourself upon such pettiness," he whispered. "In Russia I would find you a sphere worthy of your talents, and make you a d.u.c.h.ess."

"I fail to understand, monsieur."

He leaned forward until his eyes looked straight into mine, and spoke with deliberate emphasis.

"I am going to stoop and take from under your chair a cigarette, and you must perforce permit me."

"Why?"

"Because if you attempted to resist I should prevent it. See, I slowly stoop to regain my own."

He bent as he spoke, and then, as the inspiration flashed upon me, my hands went swiftly to my throat, and with a sudden clutch I snapped my necklace, and a shower of pearls scattered upon the balcony.

"My pearls!" I cried in dismay, and brus.h.i.+ng past him to save them as they fell, I picked up the cigarette from beneath my skirt and looked mockingly into his face.

"You are a clever little devil!" he said, with chagrined appreciation.

I smiled, for the key to the cipher was safe in my possession.

But men count for nothing in such matters, for men can even hold admiration for a victorious enemy--here there was a woman to deal with.

While the gallants who had cl.u.s.tered around the Countess were collecting my truant pearls, she walked across and glared into my face with eyes that blazed with fury.

In pa.s.sion she tore the mask from her face, and so, because she was pleased to confess herself, I accepted the challenge and removed mine.

She forgot her civilization, her breeding, her position, everything, and dropped back into the barbarous language of her ancestors.

"If I only had you in Russia!" she gasped, her lips almost touching my ear. "I'd have you flogged for this; I'd have your lying tongue torn out, and those shoulders you're so proud of branded 'Spy,' G.o.d! If I had you in Russia!"

"And yet," I murmured, "methinks these charms of Russia must be enjoyed by you alone, and swiftly, too, for surely--his Excellency will resign at once."

"G.o.d!" she cried, "if I had you in Russia!"

I turned away, but stole a backward glance at her as she stood, her whole body trembling, her fingers clutching the bal.u.s.trade to support her quivering figure, and then he came forward and handed me my pearls.

It was the third time he had said it, and there was a crescendo of meaning in the phrase he whispered:

"You are a clever little devil!"

LE DIABLE

We were a gathering of diplomacy, science, and beauty. Monsieur Roche, the Premier, the first, Monsieur Vicenne, the Minister of Marine, the second, and it was I who completed the trio.

"I have offered five million francs!" Monsieur Vicenne exclaimed, with a gesture as though he had mentioned the total of the Treasury of the Republic.

"But that is not so very much, monsieur," I ventured to suggest, "if the invention be all that is pretended for it."

"Five million francs!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed again, with wide-opened eyes, until I feared that his eyebrows would altogether disappear into his bushy hair.

"It is the method of calculating that is at fault," I said. "Five million francs. It sounds stupendous; but what is it? In Napoleons, merely two hundred and fifty thousand; in English sovereigns, only two hundred thousand. What do you really estimate the invention to be worth?"

"It is priceless. _Mon Dieu!_ Imagine." The dear man always spoke in this staccato manner. "A boat--a submarine boat. Sixty knots an hour.

_Mon Dieu!_ If we--if France could possess it. England! Bah!" He snapped his fingers disdainfully.

"And all for five million francs?"

"I would pay ten. _Nom de Diable!_ Fifteen--twenty."

"Ah!" I smiled.

Monsieur Roche laid his long fingers upon my arm.

"A commission, eh, _ma chere_?"

"Mercy, no! What do I know of such affairs?"

"Twenty million francs. _Mon Dieu!_ If you could buy for ten, sell for twenty--eh?" sharply interjected Monsieur Vicenne.

Monsieur Roche tapped him upon the shoulder, somewhat irritably.

"Madame is the loveliest woman in Paris," he observed.

The Minister of Marine interrupted.

"You talk commonplaces," he cried. "Tell me next that the sun is s.h.i.+ning."