r full, curving lips. She
was, indeed, a very beautiful woman--elegant, a Parisienne to the
finger-tips, with pale cheeks, but eyes dark and soft, eyes trained to
her service, whose flash was an inspiration, whose very droop had set
beating the hearts of men less susceptible than the Baron de Grost. Her
gown was magnificent, of amber satin, a color daring, but splendid; the
outline of her figure, as she leaned slightly back in her seat, might
indeed have been traced by the inspired finger of some great sculptor.
De Grost, whose reputation as a man of gallantry was well established,
felt the whole charm of her presence--felt, too, the subtle indications
of preference which she seemed inclined to accord to him. There was
nothing which eyes could say which hers were not saying during those few
minutes. The Baron, indeed, glanced around a little nervously. His wife
had still her moments of unreasonableness; it was just as well that
she was engaged with some of her guests at the farther end of the
apartments.

"You are trying to turn my head," his beautiful companion whispered.
"You flatter me."

"It is not possible," he answered.

Again the fan fluttered for a moment before her face. She sighed.

"Ah. Monsieur!" she continued, dropping her voice until it scarcely
rose above a whisper, "there are not many men like you. You speak of my
husband and his political gifts. Yet what, after all, do they amount to?
What is his position, indeed, if one glanced behind the scenes, compared
with yours?"

The face of the Baron de Grost became like a mask. It was as though
suddenly he had felt the thrill of danger close at hand, danger even in
that scented atmosphere wherein he sat.

"Alas, Madame!" he answered, "it is you, now, who are pleased to jest.
Your husband is a great and powerful ambassador. I, unfortunately, have
no career, no place in life save the place which the possession of a few
millions gives to a successful financier."

She laughed very softly, and again her eyes spoke to him. "Monsieur,"
she murmured, "you and I together could make a great alliance, is it not
so?"

"Madame," he faltered, doubtfully, "if one dared hope--"

Once more the fire of her eyes, this time not only voluptuous. Was the
man stupid, she wondered, or only cautious?

"If that alliance were once concluded," she said, softly, "one might
hope for everything."

"If it rests only with me," he began, seriously, "oh, Madame!"

He seemed overc