The Chevalier raised his head. . . . A woman? Or was his brain

mocking him? And masked? How came she here? He was confused, and his

sense of emergency lay fallow. He knew not what to do. One thing was

certain; he must make known his presence, for he was positive that she

was unaware of it. He rose, and the noise of his chair sliding back

brought from her an affrighted cry. She turned. The light of the

candle played upon his face.

"Madame, pardon me, but I have been asleep. I did not hear you enter.

It was very careless of them to show you in here."

She rose without speaking and walked toward the door, with no uncertain

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step, with a dignity not lacking in majesty.

"She sees I have been drinking," he thought. "Pray, Madame, do not

leave. Rather let me do that."

She made a gesture, hurried but final, and left him.

"It seems to me," mused the Chevalier, resuming his seat, "that I have

lost gallantry to-night, among other considerable things. I might have

opened the door for her. I wonder why she did not speak?"




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