But Fontenoy was saying to Torre,
“What a coincidence! I have just been dining with some business friends, and I thought I needed something frivolous to take my mind off my work for a little while. I might have gone to any one of a dozen other restaurants, but I just happened to drop in here—and here you all are!”
For a moment Robledo was tempted to believe that eyes can smile without the help of lips, such a mischievous and triumphant gleam flashed from Elena’s. But when the champagne bottle had renewed itself three times in its silver nest, Elena began to look enviously at the dancers. Finally she exclaimed, like a petulant small girl,
“I’d give anything to dance, and yet none of you gives me an opportunity!”
The Marquis got up as though at an imperial command, and husband and wife threaded their way in and out among the other couples.
When they returned to their table, Elena was protesting with comic indignation.
“Here I’ve come all the way to Montmartre to dance with my own husband...!”
With an affectionate glance at Fontenoy she went on,
“Of course I wouldn’t think of expecting you to dance with me. You don’t know how, and anyway it’s too frivolous. Some of your stockholders might see you, and they’d be sure to lose confidence in you, if they saw you in this sort of place.”
Turning to Robledo, she inquired,