"That torch of life!" she mused. "See! It was only that which you were so eager to pass on to another generation! That was why you were so mad to hasten to the side of that woman. Whereas," she mused still, "it were so much grander and so much nobler to pass on the torch of a principle as well!"
"I do not understand."
"The general business of offspring goes on unceasingly in all the nations," she resumed frankly. "There will be children, whether or not you and I ever find some one wherewith to mate in the compromise which folk call wedlock. But principles—ah! my friend, who is to give those to others who follow us? What rare and splendid wedlock brings forth that manner of offspring?"
"Madam, in the circumstances," said I, "I should be happy to serve you more omelet."
She shook her head as though endeavoring to dismiss something from her mind.
"Do not philosophize with me," I said. "I am already distracted by the puzzle you offer to me. You are so young and beautiful, so fair in your judgment, so kind—"
"In turn, I ask you not to follow that," she remarked coldly. "Let us talk of what you call, I think, business."
"Nothing could please me more. I have slept little, pondering on this that I do call business. To begin with, then, you were there at the Château Ramezay last night. I would have given all I had to have been there for an hour."
"There are certain advantages a woman may have."
"But you were there? You know what went forward?"