"You do not treat me with confidence, Monsieur," she complained, "and I am your wellwisher."
"Madame," I replied, "if you would search my heart, which, alas! is in your possession, you would realise that I don't understand a word of what you are talking about."
She laughed as though but half convinced. We danced again, drank wine together, and talked a great deal of nonsense. All the time I kept my eye on Rose, who found many partners and seemed to be enjoying the evening exceedingly. As the night wore on, I thought it was almost time for a counterattack.
"Tell me, Madame," I begged, as we sat enjoying a cigarette in a remote corner of the room, "what made you think that I might have other affairs in Brussels?"
She looked at me meditatively. I could see that she had not as yet made up her mind about me.
"There are so many," she said, "who come to Brussels for another purpose."
"But what purpose?"
We were resting in a deep window seat. She drew aside the curtains for a moment. Before us stretched the black, unlit wing of the chateau.
"Just that, monsieur," she whispered.
"Come, we dance again. This is the waltz we both love."