Ils volent, mais on n'entend pas
Battre leurs ailes.
"Excellent! Excellent!" quoth Count Marçais, the connoisseur. "Isn't it, Madame Mazerat?"
The manicurist made a sharp, clucking noise to demonstrate the pleasure my performance had given her. I've seen many absurd scenes in my life—but none more absurd than that.
"All is well, then," said the Count. "I have no need to tell you that you will be treated with the deference due to your position. The Grand Duke is a man of the greatest charm. The Grand Duchess"—he raised his eyebrows—"is a Russian, and that means everything as regards beauty. Prince Joachim is very tractable, but perhaps a trifle slow-witted. After all, we don't look for French vivacity in Germans. Lastly, the Court is full of charming men and lovely women. Do you ride?"
I indicated that I did not.
"You must learn. You will ride with Kessel, a marvellous horseman. Of course you must come to lunch at the Legation. I have a weird little sketch by Poiret, of which you must give me news. You will see it when I get back in ten days' time. You leave before me as you are expected as soon as possible. If you catch the 10 P.M. the day after tomorrow, you will be in Lautenburg about nine on Sunday morning."
"Very well," I said.
"Very well. Remember me gratefully to the Grand Duke, and convey my respectful homage to Her Highness the Grand Duchess. Oh, Heavens! What am I forgetting!"
He rose, and took a sealed envelope from his wallet.
"The Grand Chamberlain, Herr von Soldau, asked me to give you this," he said discreetly. "Travelling expenses. Good-bye and good luck. Excuse me, Madame Mazerat. I am now entirely at your service."