HYLLIS

THE Marquise made a wry face at his departing figure, which changed
swiftly into a smile as she turned to the young Vicomte.

"Ah, these Englishmen!" she exclaimed. "These dull, good, obstinate,
stupid pigs of Englishmen! If they would lose their tempers once--get
angry, anything. Do they make love as coldly, I wonder?"

"Dear cousin," he answered, "I do not know. But if you will permit me I
will show you----"

"Henri!"

He sighed.

"You are so adorable, Angele," he murmured.

"And you," she answered, "are so indiscreet. It is not your day, and I
am expecting Gustav at any moment, I have left word that he is to be
shown up here. There, my hand for one moment, not so roughly, sir. And
now tell me why you came."

"On a diplomatic errand, my dear cousin. I must see Miss Poynton."

She touched a bell.

"I will send for her," she said. "I shall not let you see her alone. She
is much too good-looking, and you are far too impressionable!"

He looked at her reproachfully.

"Angele," he said, "you speak so of a young English miss--to me, Henri
de Bergillac--to me who have known--who knows----"

She interrupted him laughing. The exaggerated devotion of his manner
seemed to amuse her.

"My dear Henri!" she said. "I do not believe that even a young English
miss is safe from you. But attend! She comes."

Phyllis entered the room and came towards them. She was dressed in
black, and she was still pale, but her eyes and mouth were wholly
without affinity to the class of young person whom Henri had expected to
see. He rose and bowed, and Phyllis regarded him with frank interest.

"Phyllis," the Marquise said, "this is the Vicomte de Bergillac, and he
brings you messages from some one or other. Your affairs are quite too
complicated for my little head. Sit down and let him talk to you."

"If Monsieur le Vicomte has brought me messages from the right person,"
Phyllis said with a smile, "he will be very welcome. Seriously,
Monsieur, I seem to have fallen amongst friends here whose only
unkindness is an apparent desire to turn my life into a maze. I hope
that you are going to lead me out."

"I can conceive, Mademoiselle," the Vicomte answered with his hand upon
his heart, "no more delightful undertaking."

"Then I am quite sure," she answered, laughing softly, "that we are both
going to be very happy. Please go on!"

"Mademoiselle speaks delightful French," he murmured, a little
surprised.

"And, Monsie