"Not exactly," he answered, "But spirituelle--she has what some painters might call an imaginative head--she could pose very well for St. Dorothy. I can quite realise her preferring the executioner's axe to the embraces of Theophilus." The Duchess gave him a swift glance and touched his arm with the edge of her fan. "Are you going to make love to her?" she asked. "You make love to every woman--but most women understand your sort of love-making--" "Do they?" and his blue eyes flashed amusement. "And what do they think of it?" "They laugh at it!" she answered, calmly. "But that clever child would not laugh--she would take it au grand serieux." He passed his hand carelessly through the rough dark hair which gave his ruggedly handsome features a singular softness and charm. "Would she? My dear Duchess, nobody takes anything 'au grand serieux' nowadays. We grin through every scene of life, and we don't know and don't care whether it's comedy or tragedy we're grinning at! It doesn't do to be serious. I never am. 'Life is real, life is earnest' was the line of conduct practised by my French ancestors; they cut up all their enemies with long swords, and then sat down to wild boar roasted whole for dinner. That was real life, earnest life! We in our day don't cut up our enemies with long swords--we cut them up in the daily press. It's so much easier!" "How you love to hear yourself talk!" commented the Duchess. "I let you do it--but I know you don't mean half you say!" "You think not? Well, I'm going to join the court of Corinne--she's not the usual type of Corinne--I fancy she has a heart--" "And you want to steal it if you can, of course!" and the Duchess laughed. "Men always long for what they haven't got, and tire of what they have!" "True, O Queen! We are made so! Blame, not us, but the Creator of the poor world-mannikins!" He moved away and was soon beside Innocent, who blushed into a pretty rose at sight of him. "I thought you were never coming!" she said, shyly. "I'm so glad you are here!" He looked at her with an admiring softness in his eyes. "May I have the first dance?" he said. "I timed myself to gain the privilege." She gave him her dance programme where no name was yet inscribed. He took it and scribbled his name down several times, then handed it back to her. Several of the younger men in the group which had gathered about her laughed and remonstrated. "Give somebody else a chance, Miss Armitage!" She looked round upon them, smiling. "But of course! Mr. Amadis de Jocelyn has not taken all?" They laughed again. "His name dominates your programme, anyhow!" Her eyes shone softly. "It is a beautiful name!" she said. "Granted! But show a little mercy to the unbeautiful names!" said one man near her. "My name, for instance, is Smith--can you tolerate it?" She gave a light gesture of protest. "You play with me!" she said--"Of course! You will find a dance, Mr. Smith!--and I will dance it with you!"