“Instead,” continued Dorothy, “you will take me to the conservatory.”
“Yes.”
“And there you’ll leave me alone—entirely alone—for a few moments, returning for me at the end of the dance.”
“You are ill, mademoiselle?”
“No, no; I assure you.”
“Is there nothing I can do?”
Another light pressure on the Count’s resplendent sleeve.
“Remember, monsieur le comte,” she said, “that he who would serve well must yield blindly. You wish to serve well?”
The speech was accompanied by another adroit smile, before which the Count retired utterly routed—horse, foot and dragoons.
“Pardi! mademoiselle,” he answered with effusion, “to hear you is for me to obey. It shall be as you will.”