The Countess Zarfine was walking slowly across the ballroom, her hand resting upon the arm of a tall man in the dress of an exquisite of the period of Louis XIV., and, quickly grasping my meaning, Gaspard strolled aimlessly in the same direction, carrying on an animated conversation with me all the while, which raised him greatly in my estimation as a budding diplomat.
"They are going to sit upon the balcony," I found an instant to whisper, and we followed them, my nerves thrilling with delight as I realized the strength of my position, for now the Countess would feel herself secure, thinking that I had departed.
She was seated upon a basket-chair upon the balcony overlooking the Champs Elysées, talking, in a voice that challenged criticism, of the new play at the Renaissance, and Gaspard skilfully led me to a seat facing them, and took one by my side.
And then the clever boy entered with zest into the Bohemian conceit of the bal masqué, for without a word of introduction he joined in their conversation, and in an instant we were a quartette discussing the frivolities of life.
Gradually an idle group grew round us—flattering gallants who protested with glowing compliments "that it was too cruel of their hostess to hide all the lovely faces of Paris behind silken masks."
"It must be because she is jealous," the Countess cried, with a smile that showed for an instant the gleam of her teeth; "she fears the contrast."
But then—for men, despite their deceit, are strangely truthful sometimes—no one dared to dispute the beauty of his hostess, and her eyes gleamed with gratified pride as her sneer was left unsupported in the silence—yet perhaps they were suspicious.
"Still, messieurs," she exclaimed, with a ripple of laughter, "since our faces are hidden, our freedom is greater—we may be more Bohemian." And in an instant she produced a gold case, and, extracting a cigarette, placed it with a gesture of impudence between her lips. "Those who love me join with me," she continued, handing the case to the surrounding group.
It seemed to me that there was a falseness in this ingenuous mood that sat but ill upon one so contemptuously proud.
In an instant the blue smoke curled in the air from half a dozen cigarettes.