“But you are so good to me, Seer Marcous,” she said.
“I hope you’ll find many people good to you, Carlotta,” I answered. “But if you continue that method of expressing your appreciation, you may possibly be misunderstood.”
I had recovered from the momentary shock to my senses, and I laughed. She fluttered a sidelong glance at me, and a smile as inscrutable as the Monna Lisa’s hovered over her lips.
“What would they do if they did not understand?”
“They would take you,” I replied, fixing her sternly with my gaze, “they would take you for an unconscionable baggage.”
“Hou!” laughed Carlotta, suddenly. And she ran from the room.
In a moment she was back again. She came up to me demurely and plucked my sleeve.
“Come and show me what I must put on so as to please you.”
I rang the bell for Antoinette, to whom I gave the necessary instructions. Her next request would be that I should act the part of lady’s-maid. I must maintain my dignity with Carlotta.
The lovely afternoon had attracted many people to the park, and the lawns were thronged. We found a couple of chairs at the edge of one of the cross-paths and watched the elegant assembly. Carlotta, vastly entertained, asked innumerable questions. How could I tell whether a lady was married or unmarried? Did they all wear stays? Why did every one look so happy? Did I think that old man was the young girl’s husband? What were they all talking about? Wouldn’t I take her for a drive in one of those beautiful carriages? Why hadn’t I a carriage? Then suddenly, as if inspired, after a few minutes’ silent reflection: