auleys."

"To see your friend Henry Rochester, I suppose?" she asked.

Saton's face darkened.

"No!" he answered. "I would not move a step to see him. I hate him,
and I think he knows it."

"Who were the ladies of the party?" the woman asked. "Their names one
by one, mind. Begin with the eldest."

"Lady Penarvon."

"I know. Go on," she said.

"Mrs. Hinckley."

"Go on."

"Miss Lois Champneyes."

"Young?" the woman asked.

"Yes!"

"Pretty?"

"Yes!"

"A victim?"

Saton frowned.

"There was also," he continued, "my hostess, Lady Mary Rochester."

"A silly, fluffy little woman," Madame declared. "Did she flirt?"

"Not with me, at any rate," Saton answered.

"Too experienced," Madame remarked. "Perhaps too good a judge of your
sex. Who else?"

"Lady Marrabel."

"A very beautiful woman, I have heard," Madame remarked. "Also young,
I believe. Also, I presume, a victim."

"It is not kind of you," Saton protested. "These women were staying in
the house. One has to make oneself agreeable to them."

"Someone else was staying in the house," Madame continued, fixing her
brilliant eyes upon his face. "Someone else, I see, died there."

"You mean Lord Guerdon?" Saton muttered, softly.

"He died there," she said, nodding. "Bertrand, did he--did he
recognise you?"

"He would have done," Saton said slowly, "if he had not died. He was
just beginning to remember."

She looked at him curiously for several minutes.

"Well," she said, "I ask no questions. Perhaps it is wiser not. But
remember this, Bertrand, I know something of the world, and the men
and women who live in it. You are a born deceiver of women. It is the
role which nature meant you to play. You can turn them, if you will,
inside out. Perhaps you think you do the same with me. Let that go.
And remember this. Have as little to do with men as possible. Your
very strength with women would be your very weakness with men.
Remember, I have warned you."

"You don't flatter me," he said, a little unpleasantly.

"Bah!" she answered. "Why should you and I play with words? We know
one another for what we are. Give me your hands."

He held them out. She took them suddenly in hers and drew him towards
her.

"Kiss me!" she commanded.

He obeyed at once. Then she thrust him away.

"I go with you to this conversazione to-night," she said. "It is well
that we should sometimes be seen together. I shall let it be known
that you are my adopted son."