“Now comes the curious part of the story. I told Monsieur your name and address, and his eyes instantly lighted up. ‘Ah, that accounts for all!’ he exclaimed. ‘I know the Dr. Brent. He was my own pupil till I could teach him nothing that he did not know. Then he taught me all the original things he had learned for himself during his stay in my laboratory and before that. Then we ceased to be master and pupil. We were after that two masters working together and every day finding out much that the world can never be enough grateful for. He is truly a wonder, Mister the Doctor Brent! I no longer am surprised at Mademoiselle Sout’s accomplishments and her enthusiasm. But why did she not want to speak to me his name? Is it that she loves him and he loves her not--ah, no, that cannot be! He _must_ love Mademoiselle Sout’ after he has taught her. Nothing else is possible. But is it then that he is dull to find out, and that he doubts the reaction of her love in return for his? Ah, no! He is too great a chemist for that. There must be some other explanation and I cannot find it out. But Mister the Doctor Brent is after all only an American. The Americans are what you call alert in everything but one. Mister the Doctor Brent would quickly discover the smallest error in a reaction and he would know the cause of it. But he did not note the affinity in Mademoiselle for himself. I am not a greater chemist than he is, and yet I see it instantly, when she does not want to speak to me his name! He is a man most fortunate, in that I am old and have Madame at home and three young sons in the École Polytechnique! Ah, how ardently I should have wooed Mademoiselle, the charming, if she had come to me as a pupil twenty five years ago!’ “Now, I’m not quite sure Arthur that your danger in that quarter is altogether past. Yes, I am. That was a sorry jest. But I sincerely hope that on our return you may be a trifle more alert than you have hitherto been in discovering ‘reactions.’ You don’t at all deserve that I should thus enlighten and counsel you. And it may very easily prove to be too late when we return. For, in spite of her absorption in chemistry, and the horribly stained condition of her fingers sometimes, I drag her to all sorts of entertainments, and at the Tuileries especially she is a favorite. The Empress is so gracious to ‘the charming American,’ as she calls her, that she even summons me to her side for the sake of Dorothy’s company. The entire ‘eligible list’ of the diplomatic corps has gone daft about her beauty, her naïveté and her wonderful accomplishments. The Duc de Morny has even ventured to call twice at our hotel, begging the privilege of ‘paying his respects to the charming young American.’ But the Duc de Morny is a beast--an accomplished, fascinating beast, if you please, but a beast, nevertheless,--and I have used my woman’s privilege of fibbing so far as to send him word, each time, that Mademoiselle was not at home.