It might have been Hortense, or it might not. But he instantly convinced himself that it was. Not every evening did one meet Hortense driving alone in the Champs Elysees, and in August too! "Hortense?" Sophia asked simply. "Yes. Hortense Schneider." "Who is she?" "You've never heard of Hortense Schneider?" "No!" "Well! Have you ever heard of Offenbach?" "I--I don't know. I don't think so." He had the mien of utter incredulity. "You don't mean to say you've never heard of Bluebeard?" "I've heard of Bluebeard, of course," said she. "Who hasn't?" "I mean the opera--Offenbach's." She shook her head, scarce knowing even what an opera was. "Well, well! What next?" He implied that such ignorance stood alone in his experience. Really he was delighted at the cleanness of the slate on which he had to write. And Sophia was not a bit alarmed. She relished instruction from his lips. It was a pleasure to her to learn from that exhaustless store of worldly knowledge. To the world she would do her best to assume omniscience in its ways, but to him, in her present mood, she liked to play the ignorant, uninitiated little thing. "Why," he said, "the Schneider has been the rage since last year but one. Absolutely the rage." "I do wish I'd noticed her!" said Sophia. "As soon as the Varietes reopens we'll go and see her," he replied, and then gave his detailed version of the career of Hortense Schneider. More joys for her in the near future! She had yet scarcely penetrated the crust of her bliss. She exulted in the dazzling destiny which comprised freedom, fortune, eternal gaiety, and the exquisite Gerald. As they crossed the Place de la Concorde, she inquired, "Are we going back to the hotel?" "No," he said. "I thought we'd go and have supper somewhere, if it isn't too early." "After all that dinner?" "All what dinner? You ate about five times as much as me, anyhow!" "Oh, I'm ready!" she said. She was. This day, because it was the first day of her French frock, she regarded as her debut in the dizzy life of capitals. She existed in a rapture of bliss, an ecstasy which could feel no fatigue, either of body or spirit. II It was after midnight when they went into the Restaurant Sylvain; Gerald, having decided not to go to the hotel, had changed his mind and called there, and having called there, had remained a long time: this of course! Sophia was already accustoming herself to the idea that, with Gerald, it was impossible to predict accurately more than five minutes of the future.