Ken was at a loss to know if the fellow had been in earnest or were merely up to his usual capers.... The three at the table chatted, Andree always maintaining that queer reserve, not emerging from her hiding-place, speaking only when directly addressed, and then briefly. Monsieur Robert looked at her frequently, and ever more frequently, for she was a charming picture, and more than once spoke to her in French. She always replied in English. “I think mademoiselle look ver’ nice on the stage,” he said to Ken. “If only she have the talent.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Pretty eyes and talent for act not always are together,” he said. “You can’t tell till you try,” said Kendall, colloquially. “I should like for hear mademoiselle recite one day. Mademoiselle studies Racine?” “Already I know many parts,” said Andree. “That is well. Some day you and Capitaine Ware shall come and you shall recite for me, _n’est-ce pas_?” “_Oui, monsieur_,” she said, primly. “There is but one way to enter into the stage,” he continued. “It is the _Conservatoire_. Then, if one make the success, there is the Comédie Française.... But it is not easy to enter into the _Conservatoire_.” “_Mais non_.... It is ver’ difficult,” she said, despairingly. “Ah.... But if some one speak for you? Then it ees not the same—it ees differen’.... But we shall see. Capitaine Ware ees my frien’. I would oblige him. Also I would oblige mademoiselle.” He looked at her rather intently. “We shall see.” The roast chicken arrived, surrounded by cress and swimming in a delicious sauce. Conversation languished. From time to time Kendall turned to look at Andree, for it always delighted him to see her eat, she was so intent about it. She went about it as if eating were an intricate problem requiring concentration.... And presently they fell to chatting in fragmentary fashion, Andree translating for both Kendall and Monsieur Robert, and it was very jolly and pleasant.... Kendall did not notice how often the young actor glanced at Andree.... Presently they were through and monsieur was compelled to hurry away because he had a part in the piece that was playing that evening. “I mus’ see you ver’ soon,” he said to them both, but with his eyes intently upon Andree’s—which dropped before his gaze. “I mus’ hear mademoiselle recite.” “We’ll fix it up,” said Ken. “Good night.” They shook hands and Monsieur Robert bent to kiss Andree’s hand, bent gracefully, with a charming air that was half joking, half serious. It set upon him well. “Good night,” he said, and hastened toward the theater. “I like him,” said Kendall. Andree looked at him quickly, her face expressionless. “Yes?” she said. “Don’t you?” “How can I say? I do not know him.... He is ver’ handsome.” “It doesn’t matter whether you like him or not—so long as he gets you into that _Conservatoire_ thing.” She did not reply.