The Marquise thought she had turned her last phrase very prettily, and applied the image of the necklace with considerable art, so she continued, without waiting for an answer, “You do not know me, Captain George, though I know _you_. Also, I mention no names, therefore I break no confidences. Do you remember the day the late king was taken ill, and brought home, never to recover?” His English blood stirred at the recollection of that gallant stag-hunt, and his eye brightened. She observed it, and not sharing the insular passion for an _innocent_ pursuit, drew her conclusions accordingly. “I have not forgotten it,” he replied, calmly, “nor the beautiful Marquise and her barb!” She trembled with pleasure, but commanded her voice, and repeated indifferently, “Ah! the beautiful Marquise! I fancy she nearly rode the poor barb to death that day. What will a woman not do when her heart is interested? Well, monsieur, have you ever spoken since to the beautiful Marquise, as you call her, doubtless in ridicule?” He began to think he _had_ been somewhat remiss, and that to prosecute his intimacy with the mother would have been the easiest way of obtaining access to the daughter. He was not given to self-examination, and did not perceive that his very love for Cerise had prevented him yet entering the house. “Do you know the Marquise de Montmirail?” was all he could find at the moment to say. “A little!” answered the mask, nodding her head. “But I have an intimate friend who is very intimate with her indeed. You think women cannot be friends, monsieur; you think they have no hearts; you little know the lady of whom we speak. You see her as the world does, and you judge her accordingly. How blind men are! If your eyes are not dazzled by self-conceit, they are bandaged by an impenetrable and cold egotism. A thing must touch your very noses, close like that,” and she thrust her pretty hand up within an inch of his face, “or you will not believe in its existence. Nevertheless, I could sometimes find it in my heart to envy you your callousness, your stupidity, your indifference, and to wish that I had been born a man.” I think at the moment he almost wished it too, for although the voice was very fascinating, and the situation not without its charm, she encumbered him sadly in his search for the young lady whom yet he did not the least expect to find. The Marquise, however, was quite satisfied with her position, and disposed to improve the occasion.