He was wearing the pearl-buttoned velveteen suit whose magnificence he had enhanced by newly purchased steel-buckled shoes and black stockings, and to a less bigoted worshipper than me I suppose he must have looked a mountebank Tomfool; but I only gaped at his question. "Do I?" he repeated almost fiercely. "You look beautiful, Master," said I. He passed his lean fingers wearily over his eyes. "Pardon, my little Asticot. There are things in Heaven and Earth etc. Myriads of Mysteries. As many in the heart of man as in your Wonder Houses yonder. Get me some brandy. Three _petits verres_ poured into a tumbler." I went off to the restaurant and obtained the drink. When I returned they were playing the mocking chorus that runs through "Orphée aux Enfers." The number over, Paragot drained the glass at one gulp. The company broke into unusual applause. Some one shouted "_Bis!_" "Get me some more," said he. "Do you know why I chose that tune?" "No, Master." "Because twenty devils entered into me and played leapfrog over one another." "I am very fond of that little tune. It is so gay," said Blanquette, as if she were introducing a fresh topic of conversation. "I detest it," said my master. The maître d'hôtel came up and asked that the chorus should be played again as an encore. I fetched Paragot's drink and having set it down beside him on the platform, went round with my tambourine. When I reached the table at which the four new comers were seated I found that they spoke English. They were a young man in a straw hat, a young girl, a forbidding looking man of forty with a beaky nose, and the loveliest lady I have ever seen in my life. She had the complexion of a sea-shell. Her eyes were the blue of glaciers, and they shone cold and steadfast; but her lips were kind. Her black hair under the large white tulle hat had the rare bluish tinge, looking as if cigarette smoke had been blown through it. Small and exquisitely made she sat the princess of my boyish dreams. "I call it a ripping tune," cried the young girl. "I hate it more than any other tune in the world," said the lovely lady with a shiver. Her voice was like a peal of bells or running water or whatever silvery sounding things you will. "It is very absurd to have such prejudices," said the beaky-nosed man of forty. He spoke like a Frenchman, and like a very disagreeable Frenchman. How dared he address my princess in that tone? I extended my tambourine. "_Qu'est-ce que vous désirez?_" asked the straw-hatted young man in an accent as Britannic as the main deck of the Bellerophon. "Anything that the ladies will kindly give me, Sir," I replied in our native tongue. "Hullo! English? What are you knocking about France for?" I glanced at the lovely lady. She was crumbling bread and not taking the least notice of me. I was piqued.