“May I never feel worse!” offered the Captain, raising the cup to his lips.
“Which might mean either of two very different things,” laughed his companion. “Don’t commit yourself, even in jest.”
“But I do!” he insisted. “I mean that if I never feel worse than I do now, I shall have an exceedingly happy life.”
The Madame turned to me to say, “You see what you are coming to, my young gallant?”
I forced a smile and replied that “after all, he does intrigue you.... I’m willing to come to that myself.”
She glanced questioningly at me, as if she could not decide whether I was jealous of the Captain or just indulging in a flirtatious remark for her benefit. She dropped a hand upon my head and rumpled my hair as she said, with a light little laugh, “You need not envy him in that respect, mon enfant.”
“Encore?” inquired the Captain, holding out the cup again and remarking further, as she filled it, “I might have known he would succumb to your enchantments, Circe.”
“The truth has eluded you again, my dear Captain,” she replied. “The pleasure of succumbing seems to be all mine.”
“So?” exclaimed my friend in mock surprise. “Well, I will confess, Madame: I warned him to beware—and besides he is naturally bashful.... Why, do you know, Madame, they had to tie his grandfather in bed on his wedding night!... You see, it is inherent.”
“You sinner!” the Madame called after his departing laughter.