"Permit me, monsieur, to give you a little cognac, after so many cigarettes. I fear you have only been smoking to keep me company—"
"A thousand thanks, madame!" said Calabressa, who certainly did not refuse. She took none herself; indeed, she
had just time to put her bags in order again when the train slowed into Amiens station; and she, bidding her bewildered and bewitched companion a most courteous farewell, got out and departed.
Calabressa himself soon fell asleep, and did not wake until they were near Paris. By this time the bundle of rugs in the corner had begun to show signs of animation.
"Well, friend Reitzei you have had a good sleep," said Calabressa, yawning, and stretching his arms.
"I have slept a little."
"You have slept all night—what more? What do you know, for example, of the young lady who was in the carriage?"
"I saw her come in," Reitzei said, indifferently, "and I heard you talking once or twice. What was she?"
"There you ask me a pretty question. My belief is that she was either one of those Nihilist madwomen, or else the devil himself in a new shape. At any rate, she had some good cognac."
"I should like some coffee now, Signor Calabressa; and you?"