“‘_In bonam partem_,’” read Leonore. “That’s easy, mamma. It’s—why, she isn’t listening!” “You can tell her later. I have something to talk to you about.” “What is that?” “Your dinner in my quarters. Whom would you like to have there?” “Will you really give me a dinner?” “Yes.” “And let me have just whom I want?” “Yes.” “Oh, lovely! Let me see. Mamma and papa, of course.” “That’s four. Now you can have two more.” “Peter. Would you mind—I mean——” Leonore hesitated a moment and then said in an apologetic tone—“Would you like to invite madame? I’ve been telling her about your rooms—and you—and I think it would please her so.” “That makes five,” said Peter. “Oh, goody!” said Leonore, “I mean,” she said, correcting herself, “that that is very kind of you.” “And now the sixth?” “That must be a man of course,” said Leonore, wrinkling up her forehead in the intensity of puzzlement. “And I know so few men.” She looked out into space, and Peter had a moment’s fear lest she should see the marquis, and name him. “There’s one friend of yours I’m very anxious to meet. I wonder if you would be willing to ask him?” “Who is that?” “Mr. Moriarty.” “No, I can’t ask him, I don’t want to cheapen him by making a show of him.” “Oh! I haven’t that feeling about him. I——” “I think you would understand him and see the fine qualities. But do you think others would?” Peter mentioned no names, but Leonore understood. “No,” she said. “You are quite right.” “You shall meet him some day,” said Peter, “if you wish, but when we can have only people who won’t embarrass or laugh at him.” “Really, I don’t know whom to select.” “Perhaps you would like to meet Le Grand?” “Very much. He is just the man.” “Then we’ll consider that settled. Are you free for the ninth?” “Yes. I’m not going out this spring, and mamma and papa haven’t really begun yet, and it’s so late in the season that I’m sure we are free.” “Then I will ice the canvas-backs and champagne and dust off the Burgundy for that day, if your mamma accedes.” “Peter, I wanted to ask you the other day about that. I thought you didn’t drink wine.” “I don’t. But I give my friends a glass, when they are good enough to come to me. I live my own life, to please myself, but for that very reason, I want others to live their lives to please themselves. Trying to live other people’s lives for them, is a pretty dog-in-the-manger business.” Just then Mrs. D’Alloi joined them. “Were you able to translate it?” she asked, sitting down by them. “Yes, indeed,” said Leonore. “It means ‘Towards the right side,’ or as a motto it might be translated, ‘For the right side.’”