The ball was in full swing. There was a crush in the brilliantly lighted reception-rooms of the Elysée. Prominent members of Parliament, diplomats, officers naval and military, representatives of the higher circles of commerce, and finance, rubbed shoulders with the undistinguished, at the official reception given in honour of Japan's new ambassador, Prince Ito. The prince was stationed in the centre of the inmost drawing-room, gorgeously arrayed in his national costume, a delicate smile on his lips as he watched the President's guests with bright shrewd eyes, while music from an invisible Hungarian band floated on the air.
In this particular room two men were in earnest conversation: Colonel Hofferman and Lieutenant de Loubersac.
"Well, Lieutenant, I have been too pressed for time to-day to see you ... but, Heaven knows, I have not forgotten for a moment the matter I entrusted to you.... They are causing me the greatest anxiety."...
"I can well understand that, Colonel."...
"Anything new?"
"No, Colonel.... That is to say—I ought to say 'No' to you."...
"What the devil do you mean?" The colonel stared at his junior a moment; then, taking him by the arm, said in a confidential tone:
"Let us take a turn in the garden, it is not cold.... We had better have our talk away from such a collection as this ... one does not know who or what one's neighbours may be."
"Right, Colonel, prudence is the mother of surety."