"No, no, it is nothing," she said, as I stepped forward. "Only a slight shock. I remember you perfectly. You said your name was Asticot. I asked you to come and see me. Why haven't you?"
"You said I might come if I were in want. But thanks to my dear Master I am not." I picked up the violets.
"Your master?" She looked relieved, and thanked me with a smile for the flowers. "He is well? He is with you in Paris? Is he still playing the violin?"
"He is well," said I. "He is in Paris, but he only plays the violin at home when, as he says, he wants to have a conversation with his soul."
The frost melted from her eyes and they smiled at me.
"You have caught his trick of talking."
"You once called me an amazing parrot, Madame," said I. "It is quite true."
"In the meantime," said she, "we can't stand in the Place Vendôme for ever. Come for a drive and we can talk in the carriage."
"In the——" I gasped stupefied, pointing to the victoria.
"Why not?" she laughed. "Do you think it's dangerous?"