She, in return, sighed upon his breast and declared that she loved but one man in all the world—himself.
“Since that night we first met, Lola—you remember it,” he said, “my only thought has been of you.”
“Ah, yes,” was her reply. “At my aunt’s ball in Vienna. I recollect how the Baron von Karlstadt introduced us, and how you bowed and invited me to dance. Shall I ever forget that evening, Henri—just over a year ago.”
“And old Gigleux? Is he still quite as troublesome as ever?”
“Just. He has eyes in the back of his head.”
“And Mademoiselle Lambert—is she loyal to you?”
“I fear not, alas!” was Lola’s reply. “She is paid to spy upon me. At least that has latterly become my impression. I have wanted to become her friend, but she is unapproachable.”
“Then we must exercise every discretion. On board I shall avoid you studiously. We can, of course, meet again in Cairo, for it is a big city, and you will sometimes be free.”
“Yes. Till then, adieu, Henri. But,” she added, “it will be so hard to be near you for the next three weeks and never speak.”
“It must be. Gigleux is no fool, remember,” the man replied.