So, then, she was woman after all, and curious! Her sudden speech came like a stab; but fortunately my dull nerves had not had time to change my face before a thought flashed into my mind. Could I not make merchandise of my sorrow? I pulled myself into control and looked her fair in the face. "Madam," I said, "look at my face and read your own answer." She looked, searching me, while every nerve of me tingled; but at last she shook her head. "No," she sighed. "I can not yet say." She did not see the sweat starting on my forehead. I raised my kerchief over my head. "A truce, then, Madam! Let us leave the one question against the other for a time." "Excellent! I shall get my answer first, in that case, and for nothing." "How so?" "I shall only watch you. As we are here now, I were a fool, worse than you, if I could not tell whether or not you are married. None the less, I commend you, I admire you, because you do not tell me. If you are _not_, you are disappointed. If you _are_, you are eager!" "I am in any case delighted that I can interest Madam." "Ah, but you do! I have not been interested, for so long! Ah, the great heavens, how fat was Mr. Pakenham, how thin was Mr. Calhoun! But you--come, Monsieur, the night is long. Tell me of yourself. I have never before known a savage." "Value for value only, Madam! Will you tell me in turn of yourself?" "All?" She looked at me curiously. "Only so much as Madam wishes." I saw her dark eyes study me once more. At last she spoke again. "At least," she said, "it would be rather vulgar if I did not explain some of the things which become your right to know when I ask you to come into this home, as into my other home in Washington." "In Heaven's name, how many of these homes have you, then? Are they all alike?" "Five only, now," she replied, in the most matter-of-fact manner in the world, "and, of course, all quite alike." "Where else?" "In Paris, in Vienna, in London," she answered. "You see this one, you see them all. 'Tis far cooler in Montreal than in Washington in the summer time. Do you not approve?" "The arrangement could not be surpassed." "Thank you. So I have thought. The mere charm of difference does not appeal to me. Certain things my judgment approves. They serve, they suffice. This little scheme it has pleased me to reproduce in some of the capitals of the world. It is at least as well chosen as the taste of the Prince of Orleans, son of Louis Philippe, could advise." This with no change of expression. I drew a long breath. She went on as though I had spoken. "My friend," she said, "do not despise me too early. There is abundant time. Before you judge, let the testimony be heard. I love men who can keep their own tongues and their own hands to themselves."