She had received him, not as once before in the
state drawing room, but in the intimacy of her own boudoir, a place all
soft lights and cushions and tapestries and gleaming bits of sculpture.
After tea and crumpets had been consumed, the dangerous game proceeded
far enough for Paul to confess his unjust dislike of Frank Ayres.

"Gros jaloux," said the Princess.

"That was why you said que vous etes bete," said he.

"Partly."

"What were the other reasons?"

"Any woman has a thousand reasons for calling any man stupid."

"Tell me some of them at any rate."

"Well, isn't it stupid of a man to try to quarrel with his best friend
when he won't be seeing her again for three or four months?"

"You're not going away soon?"

"Next week."

"Ohl" said Paul.

"Yes. I go to Paris, then to my villa at Mont Boron. I have the
nostalgia of my own country, you see. Then to Venice at Easter."

I Paul looked at her wistfully, for life seemed suddenly very blank and
dismal. "What shall I do all that time without my best friend?"

"You will probably find another and forget her."

She was lying back among cushions, pink and terra-cotta, and a round
black cushion framed her delicate head.

Paul said in a low voice, bending forward: "Do you think you are a
woman whom men forget?"

Their eyes met. The game had grown very perilous. "Men may remember the
princess," she replied, "but forget the woman."

"If it weren't for the woman inside the princess; what reason should I
have for remembering?" he asked.

She fenced. "But, as it is, you don't see me very often."

"I know. But you are here--to be seen--not when I want you, for that
would be every hour of the day--but, at least, in times of emergency.
You are here, all the same, in the atmosphere of my life."

"And if I go abroad I shall no longer be in that atmosphere? Did I not
say you would forget?"

She laughed. Then quickly started forward, and, elbow on knee and chin
on palm, regarded him brightly. "We are talking like a couple of people
out of Mademoiselle de Scudery," she said before he had time to reply.
"And we are in the twentieth century, mon pauvre ami. We must be
sensible. I know that you will miss me. And I will miss you too. Mais
que voulez-vous? We have to obey the laws of the world we live in."

"Need we?" asked Paul daringly. "Why need we?"

"We must. I must go away to my own country. You must stay in yours and
work and fulfill your ambitions." She pa