nsieur, I am but a neophyte where Madame is an expert. I know the
superficial nature of cats. Now and then without vainglory I can say I
know their hearts; but Madame penetrates to and holds commune with their
souls. And a cat's soul, monsieur, is a wonderful thing. Once it was
divine--in ancient Egypt. Doubtless monsieur has heard of Pasht? Holy
men spent their lives in approaching the cat-soul. Madame was born to
the privilege. Pasht watches over her."

"Pasht," I said politely in French, in reply to this clotted nonsense,
"was a great divinity. And for yourself, who knows but what you may have
been in a previous incarnation the keeper of the Sacred Cats in some
Egyptian temple."

"I was," he said, with staggering earnestness. "At Memphis."

"One of these days," I returned, with equal solemnity, "I hope for the
privilege of hearing some of your reminiscences. They would no doubt be
interesting."

On the way back Lola thanked me for pretending to take the little man
seriously, and not laughing at him.

"If I hadn't," said I, "he would have stuck his knife into me."

She shook her head. "You did it naturally. I was watching you. It is
because you are a generous-hearted gentleman."

Said I: "If you talk like that I'll get out and walk."

And, indeed, what right had she to characterise the moral condition
of my heart? I asked her. She laughed her low, lazy laugh, but made no
reply. Presently she said:

"Why didn't you like my making friends with the cat?"

"How do you know I didn't like it?" I asked.

"I felt it."

"You mustn't feel things like that," I remarked. "It isn't good for
you."

She insisted on my telling her. I explained as well as I could. She
touched the sleeve of my coat with her gloved hand.

"I'm glad, because it shows you take an interest in me. And I wanted
to let you see that I could do something besides loll about in
a drawing-room and smoke cigarettes. It's all I can do. But it's
something." She said it with the humility of the Jongleur de Notre Dame
in Anatole Frances's story.

In Eaton Square, where I had a luncheon engagement, she dropped me, and
drove off smiling, evidently well pleased with herself. My hostess was
standing by the window when I was shown into the drawing-room. I noted
the faintest possible little malicious twinkle in her eye.

During the afternoon I had a telephonic message from my doctor, who
asked me why I had neglected him for a fortnight and urged me to go