Give her a nice hot bath, and perhaps you will have the kindness to
lend her the underlinen that your sex is in the habit of wearing. You
will put her into the spare bedroom, as she is going to pass the night
here, and you will look generally after her comfort."

"_Bien, M'sieu_," said Antoinette, regarding Carlotta in stupefaction.

"And put that hat and dress into the dust-bin."

"_Bien, M'sieu._"

"And as Mademoiselle is broken with fatigue, having come without
stopping from Asia Minor, she will go to bed as soon as possible."

"The poor angel," said Antoinette. "But will she not join Monsieur at
dinner?"

"I think not," said I, dryly.

"But the young ducklings that are roasting for the dinner of Monsieur?"

"If they were not roasting they might be growing up into ducks," said I.

"Oh, la, la!" murmured Antoinette, below her breath.

"Carlotta," said I, turning to the girl who had seated herself humbly
on a straight-backed chair, "you will go with Antoinette and do as she
tells you. She doesn't talk English, but she is used to making people
understand her."

"_Mais, moi parley Francais un peu_," said Carlotta.

"Then you will win Antoinette's heart, and she will lend you her finest.
Good-night," said I, abruptly. "I hope you will have a pleasant rest."

She took my outstretched hand, and, to my great embarrassment, raised
it to her lips. Antoinette looked on, with a sentimental moisture in her
eyes.

"The poor angel," she repeated.

Later, I gave Stenson a succinct account of what had occurred. I owed
it to my reputation. Then I went upstairs and dressed for dinner. I
consider I owe that to Stenson. It was eight o'clock before I sat down,
but Antoinette's ducklings were delicious and brought consolation for
the upheaval of the day. I was unfolding the latest edition of _The
Westminster Gazette_ with which I always soothe the digestive half-hour
after dinner, when Antoinette entered to report progress.

She was sound asleep, the poor little one. Oh, but she was tired. She
had eaten some _consomme_, a bit of fish and an omelette. But she was
beautiful, gentle as a lamb; and she had a skin _on dirait du satin_.
Had not Monsieur noticed it?

I replied, with some over-emphasis, that I had not.

"Monsieur rather regards the inside of his books," said Antoinette.

"They are generally more worth regarding," said I.

Antoinette said nothing; but there was a feminine quiver at the corners
of her fat lip