This candour, this sudden submission.... What had happened?
Winter had set in in good earnest. There was an abundance of snow; the sky was leaden, and we were cut off from all society. Everybody had left; we were the last guests in the modest hotel. The extreme cold compelled us to take our meals in the large public dining-room of the restaurant.
One morning, while we were at luncheon, a strong, thick-set man, rather nice-looking, evidently belonging to the servant class, entered, sat down at one of the tables, and asked for a glass of wine.
Marie scrutinised the stranger in her free and easy manner, took his measure, as it were, and became lost in a reverie.
The man went away, confused and flattered by her attention.
"A nice-looking man," she remarked, turning to the host.
"He used to be my porter."
"Was he? He really is unusually good-looking for his class! A very nice-looking man indeed!"
And she went into details, praising his virile beauty in terms which puzzled our host.