Fifine happily so far was unconscious of her conquest, unconscious even of her privilege. Lapped in scenic wonders, I think she had no eyes for human. Back in our carriage, with hardly a glance vouchsafed to the stranger, she withdrew to reorder her ruffled plumes, while I returned to my post of observation in the corridor. But never suppose for one instant that, emotion once wakened in him, Carabas was the sort of man to suffer its incontinent stifling. Obstacles were but as zests to this ardent soul, so confident in his equipments, both physical and mental. Without a moment’s hesitation he took his place beside me at the window.
“A satisfying prospect, Monsieur,” he said, with a comprehensive wave of his hand, as though he himself were responsible for the scenery.
“Entirely so,” I answered.
“Monsieur’s first visit, perhaps, to this part of the country?”
“By no means.”
“But to Madame, Monsieur’s nouvelle mariée, it is new?”
“I have no wife.”
“Ah? To Monsieur’s sister, perhaps?”
“To my sister, as you say. Yes, it is new to her.”
“Bon! I give myself credit for my penetration.”