know it,' he replied with conviction. 'That woman is utterly
incapable of saying anything she does not think, but she sometimes
gives her opinion with horrible brutality.'

'I rather like that.'

'Do you?'

'Yes. It is good medicine.'

'Then you have only been a spectator, and never the patient!' Logotheti
laughed.

'Perhaps. Tell me all about Madame Bonanni.'

'All about her?' Logotheti smiled oddly. 'Well, she is a great artist,
perhaps the greatest living soprano, though she is getting old. You can
see that. Let me see, what else? She is very frank, I have told you
that. And she is charitable. She gives away a great deal. She has a
great many friends, of whom I call myself one, and we are all sincerely
attached to her. I cannot think of anything else to tell you about
her.'

'She said she was born a peasant,' observed Margaret who wished to hear
more.

'Oh yes!' Logotheti laughed. 'There is no doubt of that! Besides, she
is proud of it.'

'She was married at seventeen, too.'

'They all marry,' answered Logotheti vaguely, 'and their husbands
disappear, by some law of nature we do not understand--absorbed into
the elements, evaporated, drawn up into the clouds like moisture. One
might write an interesting essay on the husbands of prima donnas and
great actresses. What becomes of them? We know whence they come, for
they are often impecunious gentlemen, but where do they go? There must
be a limbo for them, somewhere, a place of departed husbands. Possibly
they are all in lunatic asylums. The greater the singer, or the
actress, the more certain it is that she has been married and that her
husband has disappeared! It is very mysterious.'

'Very!' Margaret was rather amused by his talk.

'Have you lived long in Paris?' he asked, suddenly changing the
subject.

'We live in Versailles. I come in for my lessons.'

Without asking many direct questions Logotheti managed to find out a
good deal about Margaret during the next quarter of an hour. She was
not suspicious of a man who showed no inclination to be familiar or to
make blatant compliments to her, and she told him that her father and
mother were dead and that she lived with Mrs. Rushmore and saw many
interesting people, most of whom he seemed to know. He, on his part,
told her many things about Versailles which she did not know, and she
soon saw that he was a man of varied tastes and wide information. She
wondered why he wore such a big turquoise ring a