During the rather humiliating silence that ensued he got a leather cigar case like a small valise out of his pocket, opened it and looked with critical interest at the six cigars it contained.The tireless femme-de-chambre set down a tray with coffee cups on the table.We each (glad, I suppose, of something to do) took one, but he, to begin with, sniffed at his.Dona Rita continued leaning on her elbow, her lips closed in a reposeful expression of peculiar sweetness.There was nothing drooping in her attitude.Her face with the delicate carnation of a rose and downcast eyes was as if veiled in firm immobility and was so appealing that I had an insane impulse to walk round and kiss the forearm on which it was leaning;that strong, well-shaped forearm, gleaming not like marble but with a living and warm splendour.So familiar had I become already with her in my thoughts! Of course I didn't do anything of the sort.
It was nothing uncontrollable, it was but a tender longing of a most respectful and purely sentimental kind.I performed the act in my thought quietly, almost solemnly, while the creature with the silver hair leaned back in his chair, puffing at his cigar, and began to speak again.
It was all apparently very innocent talk.He informed his "dear Rita" that he was really on his way to Monte Carlo.A lifelong habit of his at this time of the year; but he was ready to run back to Paris if he could do anything for his "chere enfant," run back for a day, for two days, for three days, for any time; miss Monte Carlo this year altogether, if he could be of the slightest use and save her going herself.For instance he could see to it that proper watch was kept over the Pavilion stuffed with all these art treasures.What was going to happen to all those things?...
Making herself heard for the first time Dona Rita murmured without moving that she had made arrangements with the police to have it properly watched.And I was enchanted by the almost imperceptible play of her lips.
But the anxious creature was not reassured.He pointed out that things had been stolen out of the Louvre, which was, he dared say, even better watched.And there was that marvellous cabinet on the landing, black lacquer with silver herons, which alone would repay a couple of burglars.A wheelbarrow, some old sacking, and they could trundle it off under people's noses.
"Have you thought it all out?" she asked in a cold whisper, while we three sat smoking to give ourselves a countenance (it was certainly no enjoyment) and wondering what we would hear next.
No, he had not.But he confessed that for years and years he had been in love with that cabinet.And anyhow what was going to happen to the things? The world was greatly exercised by that problem.He turned slightly his beautifully groomed white head so as to address Mr.Blunt directly.
"I had the pleasure of meeting your mother lately."Mr.Blunt took his time to raise his eyebrows and flash his teeth at him before he dropped negligently, "I can't imagine where you could have met my mother.""Why, at Bing's, the curio-dealer," said the other with an air of the heaviest possible stupidity.And yet there was something in these few words which seemed to imply that if Mr.Blunt was looking for trouble he would certainly get it."Bing was bowing her out of his shop, but he was so angry about something that he was quite rude even to me afterwards.I don't think it's very good for Madame votre mere to quarrel with Bing.He is a Parisian personality.He's quite a power in his sphere.All these fellows'
