That sweet lady's face, surprised and reproachful, rose before my eyes, but I had no regrets. And instead of trembling with apprehension when I saw that the couriers' room was empty, I rejoiced in the prospect of lunching alone with the redoubtable chauffeur.
It was too early for the regular feeding hour of the pensionnaires, maids, and valets, and we sat down opposite each other at the end of a long table. A bored young waiter, with little to hope for in the way of pourboires, ambled off in quest of our food. I began to unfasten my head covering, and after a search for various fugitive pins I emerged from obscurity, like the moon from behind a cloud.
With a sigh of relief, I smiled at my companion; and it was only his expression of surprise which reminded me that he had been seeing me "as through a glass darkly."
I suppose, unless you are a sort of Sherlock Holmes of physiognomy, you can't map out a woman's face by a mere glimpse of eyes through a triangular bit of talc, already somewhat damaged by exposure to sun and wind.
It mayn't be good manners to look a gift motor-veil in the talc, but I must admit that, glad as I was of its protection, mine was somewhat the worse for certain bubbles, cracks, and speckles; so whether or no Mr. Bane or Dane may combine the science of chauffeuring with that of physiognomy, it's certain that he had the air of being taken aback.
Of course, I know that I'm not exactly plain, and that the contrast between my eyes and hair is a little out of the common; so, as soon as I remembered that he hadn't seen me before, I guessed more or less what his almost startled look meant. Still, I suppose most girls—anyway, half-French, half-American girls—would have done exactly what I proceeded to do.
I looked as innocent as a fluffy chicken when it first sidles out of its eggshell into the wide, wide world; and said: "Oh, I do hope I haven't a smudge on the end of my nose?"
"No," replied the chauffeur, instantly becoming expressionless. "Why do you ask?"
"Only I was afraid, from your face, that there was something wrong."
"So far as I can see, there's nothing wrong," said he, calmly, and broke a piece of bread. "Very good butter, this, that they give to nous autres," he went on, in the same tone of voice, and my respect for him increased.