She pressed his head against her slim bosom. “Poor darling, it must have been awful. But you didn’t suppose I could forget that I had invited you to supper to-night of all nights?”
“I’m a fool, I realize it. But I’m so mad about you, I’m really not sane,” he whispered, his lips against the satin of her throat. “You’re an angel to put up with me.”
She laughed and put him aside. Springing to her feet she gave the bell-rope a vigorous pull. “Nonsense! No angel could possibly be as hungry as I am at present. Let us see what Regina can do for us.”
But the appetite was rather a pretense on both sides. They were too excited to eat. With a discreet smile, Regina wheeled in the supper on a tea wagon, and insisted upon leaving them immediately, in spite of Alexis’ efforts to make up for his former unamiability.
“The Signorino must eat. Even music must die on the empty stomach.”
There were oysters on the half-shell, cold duck and a varicolored salad that rivaled a Neapolitan sunset. Alexis opened the champagne himself.
“It was awfully banal to have it,” laughed Anne. “But we simply had to to-night, you know.” She raised her glass and smiled at him, over its miniature golden cauldron. “To Alexis Petrovskey and his triumph!”
“To the power behind the throne,” he countered.
The seething wine whipped their spirits. Between parted lips, their teeth gleamed like crescent moons.
“Oh, Alexis, you don’t know what to-night has meant to me. Your success was as intoxicating as a personal triumph.”