maternal manner appropriate to mature charms, I presume?"

"Precisely."

"What then?"

"You will--always remembering that my interest in such things is merely
academic--you will then lead me hither and yon, as your whim lists, and
show me how Paris amuses itself in these days of its nocturnal
decadence. You will dutifully pretend to drink much more champagne than
is good for you and to be enjoying yourself as you seldom have before.
If I discover an interest in people I may chance to see, you will be
good enough to tell me who they are and--other details concerning their
ways of life."

"If I know."

"But I am sure you know everyone worth knowing in Paris, Athenais."

"Then--if I am right in assuming you are looking for some person in
particular--"

"You have reason, mademoiselle."

"I run the risk of losing an entertaining evening."

"Not necessarily. Besides, there are many evenings. Are you not at my
commands for the duration of my stay in Paris?"

"True. So I will have to chance my perilous question.... I presume one
can't help being true to the traditions of one's sex."

"Inquisitive, you mean? But what else is every thinking creature, male
or female? What are men of science? What--?"

"But it was Eve who first--"

"Ah! raking up old scandal, eh? But I'll wager something it was really
Adam who--taking a purely scientific interest in the business--egged
Eve on to try a bite of apple, asserting that the domestic menu lacked
variety, telling himself if she died of it, it would only cost him
another rib to replace her, and cheap at the price."

"Paul: you are too gallant. Wait till I try to find out something about
you, directly or indirectly, and see what you will then have to say
about the curiosity of women."

"But I shouldn't mind, it would be too flattering. So dig away."

"I will. Who is it you're looking for in Paris after midnight?"

"Anyone of several people." "Perhaps I know them. It might save time if
you would give me their names."

"Now it is you who ask me to risk losing an enjoyable evening. But so
be it. Le Comte de Lorgnes?"

Mademoiselle Reneaux looked blank.

"Madame la Comtesse de Lorgnes?"

The young woman shook her head.

"Both of a class sure to be conspicuous in such places as Maxim's,"
Lanyard explained. "The names, then, are probably fictitious."

"If you could describe them, perhaps--?"

"Useless, I am afraid; neither is an uncommon type. Any word picture of
ei