sses it to their lips. These people had found something
else. Were they not, after all, a little to be envied? They must know
what it was to feel the throb of life, to test the true flavor of its
luxuries when there was no certainty of the morrow. I felt the
fascination, felt it almost in my blood, as I looked around.

"You could not specify, I suppose?" I said to Louis.

"How could monsieur ask it?" he replied, a little reproachfully. "You
will be one of the only people who do not belong who have been
admitted here, and you will notice," he continued, "that I have asked
for no pledge--I rely simply upon the honor of monsieur."

I nodded.

"There is crime and crime, Louis," said I. "I have never been able to
believe myself that it is the same thing to rob the widow and the
millionaire. I know that I must not ask you any questions," I
continued, "but the girl with Delora,--the man whom you call
Delora,--she, at least, is innocent of any knowledge of these things?"

Louis smiled.

"Monsieur is susceptible," he remarked. "I cannot answer that
question. Mademoiselle is a stranger. She is but a child."

"And Monsieur Delora himself?" I asked. "He comes here when he
chooses? He is not merely a sightseer?"

"No," Louis repeated, "he is not merely a sightseer!"

"A privileged person," I remarked.

"He is a wonderful man," Louis answered calmly. "He has travelled all
over the world. He knows a little of every capital, of every side of
life,--perhaps," he added, "of the underneath side."

"His niece is very beautiful," I remarked, looking at her
thoughtfully. "It seems almost a shame, does it not, to bring her
into such a place as this?"

Louis smiled.

"If she were going to stay in Paris--yes!" he said. "If she is really
going to Brazil, it matters little what she does. A Parisian, of
course, would never bring his womankind here."

"She is very beautiful," I remarked. "Yes, I agree with you, Louis. It
is no place for girls of her age."

Louis smiled.

"Monsieur may make her acquaintance some day," he remarked. "Monsieur
Delora is on his way to England."

"She is a safer person to admire," I remarked, "than the lady
opposite?"

"Much," Louis answered emphatically. "Monsieur has already," he
whispered, "been a little indiscreet. The lady of the turquoises has
spoken once or twice to Bartot and looked this way. I feel sure that
it was of you she spoke. See how she continually looks over the top of
her fan a