!' She eyed the bright young face with
growing approval. 'Yes, business, alas, was the pivot of her visit! This
terrible business--exacting so much, giving so little in return!' She
heaved a weighty sigh, then her fat face melted into smiles. 'But after
all, what would you?' She shrugged her ample shoulders, and the
toothpick came into full play.

'What would you, indeed?' The boy began to feel a little disconcerted
under her glance of slow approval, and a swift sense of relief passed
through him as the door opened and the waiter reappeared, carrying the
two eggs.

'What would you, indeed? One must live!' Madame, disregarding the
waiter, continued to study the boyish face--the curious dark-gray eyes,
in which the morning sun was discovering little flecks of gold. 'And
every year conditions were becoming harder, as monsieur doubtless knew.'

Monsieur nodded his head sagely, and began to eat his eggs with keen
zest.

Madame looked slowly round at the waiter and ordered coffee, then her
glance returned to the boy.

'How good, how refreshing it was to see him eat! How easy to comprehend
that he was young!' She sighed again, this time more softly. 'Youth was
a marvellous thing--and Paris was the city of the young! Was monsieur
making a long stay at the Hotel Railleux?'

The waiter again appeared and placed the coffee upon the table.
Monsieur, suddenly and unaccountably uneasy, finished his eggs hastily
and pushed his plate aside.

'Did monsieur desire coffee?' Madame leaned forward. 'If so, it would be
but the matter of a moment to procure a second cup; and, as her
coffee-pot was quite full--' She raised the lid coquettishly, and again
her eyes lingered upon the short dark hair and the straight brows above
the gray eyes.

The waiter with ready tact departed in search of the second cup; madame
replaced the lid of the coffee-pot.

'Now that they were alone, would it be an unpardonable liberty to ask
how old monsieur really was?'

Monsieur blushed.

'How old would madame suppose?'

Madame laughed. 'Oh, it was difficult to say! One might imagine from
those bright eyes that monsieur had nineteen years; but, again, it was
impossible to suppose that a razor had ever touched that soft cheek.'
There was another little laugh, lower this time and more subtle in tone;
and madame, with a movement wonderfully swift considering her years and
her proportions, leaned across the table and touched the boy's face.

The effect