Again the thoughts surged and surged, and the past intruded itself! Reaching for his glass, he drank quickly.
“Don’t you ever feel the effects of wine?” asked the young woman.
His glance chilled her, it seemed so strange and steely!
“I believe you are so––so strong you don’t even notice it,” added Susan, with conviction. “But you don’t have half as good a time!”
“Perhaps I enjoy myself in my way,” he answered.
“What is your way?” she asked quickly. “You don’t appear to be wildly hilarious in your pleasures.” And Susan’s bright eyes rested on him curiously. “But we were speaking about the count and Constance. Don’t you think it would be a good match?” she continued with enthusiasm. “Alas, my titled admirer got no further than the beginning. But men are deceivers ever! When they do reach the Songs of Solomon, they pass on to Exodus!”
“And leave the fair ones to Lamentations,” said Straws, who had caught her last remarks.
“Or Revelations!” added Phazma.
At the sound of their laughter, Constance looked coldly their way, until a remark from the count at her right, and, “As I was saying, my dear,” from the old 338 lady at her left, engrossed the young girl’s attention once more. But finally the great enemy of joy––the grim guardian of human pleasure––the reaper whose iron hands move ever in a circle, symbolical of eternity––finally, Time reminded Barnes that the hour had surely arrived when the curtain should descend upon these festivities. So he roared out a last blithe farewell, and the guests departed one by one, taking with them flowers in memory of the occasion, until all had left save Constance, the count, Saint-Prosper and the manager. Barnes was talking somewhat incoherently, holding the soldier by the coat and plunging into successive anecdotes about stage folk, while Saint-Prosper, apparently listening, observed the diplomat and Constance, whose conversation he could overhear.
“As I said to the Royal Infanta of Spain, flattery flies before truth in your presence, Mademoiselle,” sighed the count. And then raising her hand to his lips, “Ah, ma chere Mademoiselle, que je vous adore!” he whispered.