"Mamam, dites-moi ce qu'on sent
Quand on aime,"
came the voice of Adrian from within.
"If you talk, we can't hear the music," said Susanna.
"Bother the music," responded Anthony.
"It was you who asked him to sing," she said.
"Bother his singing. This is my last evening with you. Do you think a woman has the right to be as gloriously beautiful as you are to-night? Do you think it's fair to the feelings of a poor wretched man, who adores her, and whom she, in mere wanton wickedness, is sending to the uttermost ends of the earth?"
Susanna had her fan of white feathers in her lap. She caressed it.
"I want to ask you something," said Anthony.
"What is it?" said she.
"A piece of information, to help me on my journey. Will you give it me?"