“Won’t it be a splendid marriage!” said Germaine. “There’ll be something like a crush. There are sure to be accidents.” “If I were you, I should have careful arrangements made,” said the Duke. “Oh, let people look after themselves. They’ll remember it better if they’re crushed a little,” said Germaine. There was a flicker of contemptuous wonder in the Duke’s eyes. But he only shrugged his shoulders, and turning to Sonia, said, “Will you be an angel and play me a little Grieg, Mademoiselle Kritchnoff? I heard you playing yesterday. No one plays Grieg like you.” “Excuse me, Jacques, but Mademoiselle Kritchnoff has her work to do,” said Germaine tartly. “Five minutes’ interval—just a morsel of Grieg, I beg,” said the Duke, with an irresistible smile. “All right,” said Germaine grudgingly. “But I’ve something important to talk to you about.” “By Jove! So have I. I was forgetting. I’ve the last photograph I took of you and Mademoiselle Sonia.” Germaine frowned and shrugged her shoulders. “With your light frocks in the open air, you look like two big flowers,” said the Duke. “You call that important!” cried Germaine. “It’s very important—like all trifles,” said the Duke, smiling. “Look! isn’t it nice?” And he took a photograph from his pocket, and held it out to her. “Nice? It’s shocking! We’re making the most appalling faces,” said Germaine, looking at the photograph in his hand. “Well, perhaps you ARE making faces,” said the Duke seriously, considering the photograph with grave earnestness. “But they’re not appalling faces—not by any means. You shall be judge, Mademoiselle Sonia. The faces—well, we won’t talk about the faces—but the outlines. Look at the movement of your scarf.” And he handed the photograph to Sonia. “Jacques!” said Germaine impatiently. “Oh, yes, you’ve something important to tell me. What is it?” said the Duke, with an air of resignation; and he took the photograph from Sonia and put it carefully back in his pocket. “Victoire has telephoned from Paris to say that we’ve had a paper-knife and a Louis Seize inkstand given us,” said Germaine. “Hurrah!” cried the Duke in a sudden shout that made them both jump. “And a pearl necklace,” said Germaine. “Hurrah!” cried the Duke. “You’re perfectly childish,” said Germaine pettishly. “I tell you we’ve been given a paper-knife, and you shout ‘hurrah!’ I say we’ve been given a pearl necklace, and you shout ‘hurrah!’ You can’t have the slightest sense of values.” “I beg your pardon. This pearl necklace is from one of your father’s friends, isn’t it?” said the Duke. “Yes; why?” said Germaine. “But the inkstand and the paper-knife must be from the Faubourg Saint-Germain, and well on the shabby side?” said the Duke. “Yes; well?” “Well then, my dear girl, what are you complaining about? They balance; the equilibrium is restored. You can’t have everything,” said the Duke; and he laughed mischievously. Germaine flushed, and bit her lip; her eyes sparkled.