"To-night, dear," he murmured, "you are wonderful. You sing from the heart, your voice has feeling, you bring to one the exquisite moments…. Behold, the supper arrives! Estermen has made friends now with his little danseuse. Sit closer to me, dear. These are the golden hours. Give me your hand, look into my eyes, drink with me…. How the minutes pass! There is magic in this place."
Towards four o'clock Falkenberg and his companions came down the narrow stairs, out into the morning. A fine rain was falling, the pavements were already wet. Falkenberg was still gay, still laughing and talking. Behind, a little company—the chef d'orchestre, the chief maître d'hôtel, the flower girl—wondering at his generosity, stood at the head of the stairs to bid him godspeed. He gave a louis to the commissionaire and called for a special carriage. He had almost to lift Marguerite inside.
"Dear child," he said, holding her hands, "here we must part for a time—not for so long, perhaps. Who can tell? It is a comfortable carriage, this. Here is a handful of money for the fare. It is of no use to me."
He emptied his pockets into her lap as she sat there. She made no effort to pick up the shower of gold and silver.
"What do you mean—that it is of no use to you?"
"We drive for home," he answered. "We shall need no money to take us there. Listen."
He drew her face very close to his.
"When you arrive at your apartment," he said, "you will find there a little packet from me. Be wise, dear. If chance will have it that we do not meet again very soon, may it help you to take all out of life that you can find. Only sometimes when the heart is joyous, when the wine flows and your feet are keeping time to the music of life, think for a moment—of one who dwells, alas! in a quieter country. Dear Marguerite!"
He kissed her, first upon the lips and then lightly on the forehead. Then gently he thrust away the arms which she had wound around his neck. He waved to the coachman to drive off. With a little shrug of the shoulders he took his own place in the great touring car. Estermen, too, clambered into the tonneau.
"You have supped well, I trust, Henri?" the Prince asked the chauffeur.