“That is it—you have not the same urge. But is that a thing to be proud of—to be more vegetable than we are?”
“But if we are happier so?”
“Happy? Can one be happy without great moments? Yes—as a cow is happy—as a sheep is happy. But for me, that is not happiness—that is ennui! I demand more than that! For me, happiness is to risk everything on one turn of the wheel!”
“Well—you are risking it now,” Selden pointed out.
“Oh, no, I am not!” she retorted quickly, and leaned back a little wearily. “I am perhaps willing to risk it, but the stake is too high—the bank refuses to take my bet. Is it that the bank has other bets?” and she looked at him sharply.
“I am just an obtuse American, madame,” answered Selden steadily, though his pulses were pounding madly, “and not at all good at guessing riddles.”
She looked at him a moment longer; then her eyes softened and a little smile played about her lips.
“You are really very clever, M. Selden,” she said; “very, very clever. I knew it the first time I saw you—I looked at you well to make sure. And I have a great admiration for clever men—I have met, alas, so few! But you were speaking of the prince. Do you wish that I send him away?”
“I think it would be best.”
“I am not asking what would be best, but whether you wish it.”