Then I would tell her of my friendship with the Czar and offer my services as a direct intermediary to bring about an interview between them.
She was in the garden among her flowers, and in her simple morning costume, with the fresh colour in her cheeks, she looked even lovelier than on the previous night.
She welcomed me with a smile and held out some flowers.
“I am an early riser, you see. I love my garden. I have been out here more than an hour. You have slept?” she added, glancing at my face which was no doubt serious enough, for I rather dreaded what I had to say.
“Never better in my life,” I answered. “But I wish to speak to you.”
“And does that prospect make you so serious? I ought to apologize for exhaling such terrors.” She laughed gaily and bent over a flower bush, and then glanced up half-coquettishly. “Let us wait a while. Be merciful, and do not spoil my morning.”
“What I have to say cannot wait, mademoiselle.”
“I make a very bad listener when I am bending from flower to flower, M. American. Unless it is that you are going.”
“That will depend on how you take my news.”
“Then you are not going at once,” she said quickly. “Are not these lovely?” and she held up a bunch of flowers for me to admire, and looked laughingly at me over them.