eyes--and he gave a little groan of
sheer bitterness, for he realized that all this while she was laying her
snares about the feet of an inexperienced boy, decoying him to his ruin.
There was a name for such women, an ugly name. They were called
adventuresses.

The girl set the bowl which she carried down upon a table not far from
the bed. "You will need a tray or something," said she. "I suppose you
can sit up against your pillows? I'll bring a tray and you can hold it
on your knees and eat from it." She spoke in a tone of very deliberate
indifference and detachment. There seemed even to be an edge of scorn in
it, but nothing could make that deep and golden voice harsh or unlovely.
As the girl's extraordinary beauty had filled all the room with its
light, so the sound of her voice seemed to fill it with a sumptuous and
hushed resonance like a temple bell muffled in velvet. "I must bring
something to eat, too," she said. "Would you prefer croissants or
brioches or plain bread-and-butter? You might as well have what you
like."

"Thank you!" said Ste. Marie. "It doesn't matter. Anything. You are most
kind. You are Hebe, Mademoiselle, server of feasts." The girl turned her
head for a moment and looked at him with some surprise.

"If I am not mistaken," she said, "Hebe served to gods." Then she went
out of the room, and Ste. Marie broke into a sudden delighted laugh
behind her. She would seem to be a young woman with a tongue in her
head. She had seized the rash opening without an instant's hesitation.

The black cat, which had been cruising, after the inquisitive fashion of
its kind, in far corners of the room, strolled back and looked up to the
table where the bowl of coffee steamed and waited.

"Get out!" cried Ste. Marie. "Va t'en, sale petit animal! Go and eat
birds! That's _my_ coffee. Va! Sauve toi! He, voleur que tu es!" He
sought for something by way of missile, but there was nothing within
reach.

The black cat turned its calm and yellow eyes toward him, looked back to
the aromatic feast, and leaped expertly to the top of the table. Ste.
Marie shouted and made horrible threats. He waved an impotent pillow,
not daring to hurl it for fear of smashing the table's entire contents,
but the black cat did not even glance toward him. It smelled the coffee,
sneezed over it because it was hot, and finally proceeded to lap very
daintily, pausing often to take breath or to shake its head, for cats
disapprove of hot dis