“May we offer, then?”
“Who is your friend?”
“A charming fellow, very amusing. He will be delighted to make your acquaintance.”
“Well, all right; we will go after this piece is over, for I know the last piece.”
“With pleasure; I will go and tell my friend.”
“Go, then. Ah,” added Prudence, as I was going, “there is the duke just coming into Marguerite’s box.”
I looked at him. A man of about seventy had sat down behind her, and was giving her a bag of sweets, into which she dipped at once, smiling. Then she held it out toward Prudence, with a gesture which seemed to say, “Will you have some?”
“No,” signalled Prudence.
Marguerite drew back the bag, and, turning, began to talk with the duke.
It may sound childish to tell you all these details, but everything relating to Marguerite is so fresh in my memory that I can not help recalling them now.