"And then you will be untrue to me," says Nita, smilingly. "Have you finished your supper? Do you not wish to retire?"
"No, no; I am not sleepy, and it is so nice to talk," replies Sonia. "Come out on the terrace for a little."
Silently Nita follows. The heavens are cloudless. It is bright moonlight.
"Only think whom I saw in the theatre this evening," begins Sonia. "As you do not know the person, my communication will, alas! lack the impressive effect."
"Well?"
"The most singular woman--a certain Njikitjin."
"Marie Petrovna Njikitjin?" says Nita, who until then has been dreamily looking over the terrace railing. "Is she in Paris?"
"Yes. Do you know her?"
"A little," murmurs Nita.
"I know her well," sighs Sonia.