His eagerness permitted no refusal; besides, Mauville was not in the mood to enjoy the nobleman’s society, and was but too pleased to turn him over to the tender care of Susan.
“How do you do, Miss Duran,” he said, having made his way to her box.
“Where did you drop from?” she asked, in surprise, giving him her hand.
“The skies,” he returned, with forced lightness.
“A fallen angel!” commented Susan.
“Good! Charming!” cried the marquis, clapping his withered hands.
“Miss Duran, the Marquis de Ligne has requested the pleasure of meeting you.”
She flashed a smile at him. He bent over her hand; held it a moment in his icy grasp.
“The pleasure,” said Susan, prettily, not shirking the ordeal, “is mine.”
“In which case,” added Mauville, half ironically, “I will leave you together to enjoy your happiness.”