"Is it customary among the English to request to speak to strangers without the usual formalities of an introduction?""I can not say that it is," he answered truthfully enough; "but the procedure is never without a certain charm and excitement.""Ah; then you were led to address me merely by the love of adventure?""That is it; the love of adventure.I should not have spoken to you had you not worn the veil." He remarked that her English was excellent.
"You differ from the average Englishman, who is usually wrapt up in himself and has no desire to talk to strangers.You have been a soldier."The evolutions of his cane ceased."How in the world did you guess that?" surprised beyond measure.
"Perhaps there is something suggestive in your shoulders."He tried to peer behind the veil, but in vain."Am I speaking to one I have met before?""I believe not; indeed, sir, I am positive.""I have been a soldier, but my shoulders did not tell you that.""Perhaps I have the gift of clairvoyance," gazing again toward the entrance.
"Or perhaps you have been to Vienna."
"Who knows? Most Englishmen are, or have been, soldiers.""That is true." Inwardly, "There's my friend the Englishman again.She's guessing closer than she knows.Curious; she has mistaken me for some one she does not know, if that is possible."He was somewhat in a haze."Well, you have remarkable eyes.
However, let us talk of a more interesting subject; for instance, yourself.You, too, love adventure, that is, if I interpret the veil rightly.""Yes; I like to see without being seen.But, of course, behind this love of adventure which you possess, there is an important mission.""Ah!" he thought; "you are not quite sure of me." Aloud, "Yes, Icame here to witness the comic opera."
"The comic opera? I do not understand?"
"I believed there was going to be trouble between the duchy and the kingdom, but unfortunately the prima donna has refused the part.""The prima donna!" in a muffled voice."Whom do you mean?""Son Altesse la Grande Duchesse! 'Voici le sabre de mon pere!'"And he whistled a bar from Offenbach, his eyes dancing.
"Sir!--I!--you do wrong to laugh at us!" a flash from the half-hidden eyes.
"Forgive me if I have offended you, but I--""Ah, sir, but you who live in a powerful country think we little folk have no hearts, that we have no wrongs to redress, no dreams of conquest and of power.You are wrong.""And whose side do you defend?"
"I am a woman," was the equivocal answer.
"Which means that you are uncertain."
"I have long ago made up my mind."
"Wonderful! I always thought a woman's mind was like a time-table, subject to change without notice.So you have made up your mind?""I was born with its purpose defined," coldly.
"Ah, now I begin to doubt."
"What?" with a still lower degree of warmth.
"That you are a woman.Only goddesses do not change their minds--sometimes.Well, then you are on the weaker side.""Or the stronger, since there are two sides.""And the stronger?" persistently.
"The side which is not the weaker.But the subject is what you English call 'taboo.' It is treading on delicate ground to talk politics in the open--especially in Bleiberg.""What a diplomat you would make!" he cried with enthusiasm.
Certainly this was a red-letter day in his calendar.This adventure almost equalled the other, and, besides, in this instance, his skin was dry; he could enjoy it more thoroughly.
Who could this unknown be? "If only you understood the mystery with which you have enshrouded yourself!""I do." She drew the veil more firmly about her chin.
"Grant me a favor."
"I am talking to you, sir."
This candor did not disturb him."The favor I ask is that you will lift the corner of your veil; otherwise you will haunt me.""I am doomed to haunt you, then.If I should lift the corner of my veil something terrible would happen.""What! Are you as beautiful as that?"
There was a flash of teeth behind the veil, followed by the ripple of soft laughter."It is difficult to believe you to be English.You are more like one of those absurd Americans."Maurice did not like the adjective."I am one of them,"wondering what the effect of this admission would be."I am not English, but of the brother race.Forgive me if I have imposed on you, but it was your fault.You said that I was English, and I was too lonesome to enlighten you.""You are an American?" She began to tap her gloved fingers against the table.
"Yes."
Then, to his astonishment, she gave way to laughter, honest and hearty."How dense of me not to have known the moment you addressed me! Who but the American holds in scorn custom's formalities and usages? Your grammar is good, so good that my mistake is pardonable.The American is always like the terrible infant; and you are a choice example."Maurice was not so pleased as he might have been.His ears burned.Still, he went forward bravely."A man never pretends to be an Englishman without getting into trouble.""I did not ask to speak to you.No one ever pretends to be an American.Why is it you are always ashamed of your country?"with malice aforethought.
Maurice experienced the sting of many bees."I see that your experience is limited to impostors.I, Mademoiselle, am proud of my country, the great, free land which stands aside from the turmoil and laughs at your petty squabbles, your kings, your princes.Laugh at me; I deserve it for not minding my own business, but do not laugh at my country." His face was flushed;he was almost angry.It was not her words; it was the contempt with which she had invested them.But immediately he was ashamed of his outburst."Ah, Mademoiselle, you have tricked me; you have found the vulnerable part in my armor.I have spoken like a child.Permit me to apologize for my apparent lack of breeding."He rose, bowed, and made as though to depart.
