The ambassador's wife fanned herself and remained silent for a moment, a faint smile playing at the corners of her full, curving lips. She was indeed a very beautiful woman--elegant, a Parisian to the finger-tips, with pale cheeks but eyes dark and soft; eyes trained to her service, whose flash was an inspiration, whose very droop had set beating the hearts of men less susceptible than the Baron de Grost. Her gown was magnificent, of amber satin--a colour daring but splendid; the outline of her figure as she leaned slightly back in her seat might indeed have been traced by the inspired finger of some great sculptor. Peter, whose reputation as a man of gallantry was well established, felt the whole charm of her presence--felt, too, the subtle indications of preference which she seemed inclined to accord to him. There was nothing which eyes could say which hers were not saying during those few minutes. Peter, indeed, glanced around a little nervously. His wife had still her moments of unreasonableness; it was just as well that she was engaged with a party of her guests at the farther end of the apartments! "You are trying to turn my head," his beautiful companion whispered. "You flatter me." "It is not possible," he answered. Again the fan fluttered. "Ah, monsieur," she continued, dropping her voice until it scarcely rose above a whisper, "there are not many men like you. You speak of my husband and his political gifts. Yet, what, after all, do they amount to? What is his position, indeed, if one glanced behind the scenes, compared with yours?" The face of the Baron de Grost became like a mask. It was as though suddenly he had felt the thrill of danger close at hand--danger even in that scented atmosphere wherein he sat. "Alas, madame!" he answered, "it is you now who are pleased to jest. Your husband is a great and powerful ambassador. I, unfortunately, have no career, no place in life, save the place which the possession of a few millions gives to a successful financier." She laughed very softly, and again her eyes spoke to him. "Monsieur," she murmured, "you and I together could make a great alliance; is it not so?" "Madame," he faltered doubtfully, "if one dared hope----" Once more the fire of her eyes, this time not only voluptuous. Was the man stupid or only cautious? "If that alliance were once concluded," she said softly, "one might hope for everything." "If it rests only with me," he began seriously, "oh, madame!" He seemed overcome. Madame was gracious; but was he really stupid or only very much in earnest? "To be one of the world's money kings," she whispered, "it is wonderful, that. It is power--supreme, absolute power! There is nothing beyond--there is nothing greater."