“No, I don’t know him. I am only a Latin Quarter student.”
“Well, he is giving that party. He is giving it for me—in my honour. That is his villa. And I”—she 22 laughed—“am going to marry him—perhaps! Isn’t this a delightful escapade of mine?”
“Isn’t it rather an indiscreet one?” he asked smilingly.
“Frightfully. But I like it. How did you happen to pitch your easel on his lawn?”
“The river and the hills—their composition appealed to me from here. It is the best view of the Seine.”
“Are you glad you came?”
They both laughed at the mischievous question.
During their third dance she became a little apprehensive and kept looking over her shoulder toward the house.
“There’s a man expected there,” she whispered, “Ferez Bey. He’s as soft-footed as a cat and he always prowls in my vicinity. At times it almost seems to me as though he were slyly watching me—as though he were employed to keep an eye on me.”