d out the opinion that _Monseigneur_ was _bon
enfant_. William Adolphus mounted into the seventh heaven. He came home
and did not tell his wife where he had been. This silence was
significant. As a rule, if he but visited the tailor or had his hair
cut, he told everybody all about it. He had really no idea that some
things were uninteresting. I do not mean to say that this trait
constitutes exactly a peculiarity.

My brother-in-law and I were very good friends. He proposed that I
should accompany him to the theatre, and afterward be his guest, for he
was to entertain Coralie at supper.

"But where?" I asked with a smile.

"There is an excellent restaurant where I have a private room," he
confessed.

"And they don't know you?"

"Of course they know me."

"I mean, where they would be willing to know neither you nor me."

"Oh, I see what you mean. That's all right."

So I went with William Adolphus. Several men whom I knew were present,
among them Wetter and M. le Vicomte de Varvilliers, second secretary of
the French Embassy and a mirror of fashion. We were quite informal.
Varvilliers sat on my left and employed himself in giving me an account
of my right-hand neighbour Coralie. I listened absently, for the sight
of Wetter had stirred other thoughts in my mind. I had not yet spoken to
Coralie; my brother-in-law monopolized her.

"I ought to speak to her, I suppose?" I said to Varvilliers at last.

"A thousand pardons for engrossing your Majesty!" he cried. "Yes, I
think you should."

William Adolphus' voice flowed on in the account of a match between one
of his horses and one of somebody else's. I turned to follow
Varvilliers' advice; rather to my surprise, I found Coralie's eyes fixed
on me with an appearance of faint amusement. She began to address me
without waiting for me to say anything.

"Why do you listen to what Varvilliers says about me instead of finding
out about me yourself?" she asked.

"How do you know he talked of you, mademoiselle?"

She shrugged her shoulders and returned to her salad. William Adolphus
asked her a question; she nodded without looking up from the salad. I
began to eat my salad.

"It's a good salad," I observed, after a few mouthfuls.

"Very," said Coralie; she turned her great eyes on me. "And, _mon Dieu_,
what a rare thing!" she added with a sigh.

Probably she would expect a touch of gallantry.

"The perfection of everything is rare," said I, looking pointedly in h