“Ah,” she exclaimed, fanning herself slowly with a sudden hauteur; “no secret seems safe from you, m’sieur. Nothing escapes the Embassy of Russia.” And bowing slightly, her stiff silks swept past us, and a moment later she became lost in the chattering, well-dressed crowd.
“You see, my dear Geoffrey,” laughed Paul, when the Countess was out of hearing, “we are accredited with the omnipotence of the Evil One himself quite unduly. I particularly desired to learn whether her husband had been decorated by his Emperor for that convention which nearly cost Europe a war; therefore I hazarded a single remark. Whereupon she at once told me all about it, and having done so, in her next breath denounced us and all our works. But, there,” and he gave his shoulders a shrug, “women are such strange creatures.”
“How cleverly you managed to ascertain what you desired,” observed Ella.
But the fine Viennese orchestra had struck up, and my wife, being engaged to him for a dance then commencing, he led her off, and I failed to overhear his reply.
For the next hour I did not dance, but wandering about the rooms I exchanged greetings and chatted with those I knew, until at length I came across Lady Farringford, the wife of Sir Henry Farringford, our Minister in Washington, sitting with her daughter Mabel. We were old friends, and Mabel quickly responded to my invitation to waltz. She was a smart girl, and rumour said that she had become engaged to a wealthy American, a statement which, in reply to my inquiry, she frankly confirmed. As we waltzed and lounged together I noticed Ella dancing first with Paul, and afterwards with several young attachés of my acquaintance. Once or twice we exchanged smiles, and I knew by the expression on her face how thoroughly she was enjoying her first night in the diplomatic circle. The scene was brilliant and full of colour, the music excellent, and the scent of exotics almost overpowering. Everyone seemed intoxicated with gaiety. In that cosmopolitan crowd hearts were lighter and talk more free than in the ordinary London ballroom, although experienced ones knew that here, amid this brilliant assembly, there were many strange undercurrents affecting the prestige of monarchs and the welfare of nations.
“So, you are to marry, Mabel,” I observed when, after waltzing, I led her into an ante-room, and she sat down to eat an ice.
“Yes, at last,” she sighed, looking up at me with a pair of mischievous dark eyes. She was about twenty-two, and rather pretty. “I’m to be married in June, and we are coming to Europe for a twelve months’ tour. You are married already. I’d so much like to meet your wife. Since I’ve been here this evening I’ve heard nothing but admiration of her. You’re the envy of all your male friends, Geoffrey.”
I laughed. I confess that by the sensation Ella had caused I felt flattered.
“I’ll introduce you when I have a chance,” I said. “Our congratulations are mutual. You are to have a husband; I have already a wife.”
“I hope you’ll find the Biblical quotation correct,” she laughed, peering at me over her gauzy fan. “Do you know the words?”