“And from here you go to where?” I asked.

“Back to Paris,” she answered, “and then, alas, to South America.  It is to be buried!”

“You have lived long in Paris?” I asked.

“Since I came there first to boarding-school,” she answered.  “A little child I was, with my hair in pigtails and frocks to my knees.  I have learned to think, somehow, that Paris is my home.  What I have heard of South America I do not love.  I wish very much that my uncle would stay here.”

“There is no chance of that, I suppose?” I asked.

“I think not,” she answered.  “In South America he is a very important man.  They speak of him one day as President.”

“Had you any idea,” I asked, “that he had enemies over here?”

She shook her head.

“It is not that,” she said.  “We will not talk of it just now.  It is not that he has enemies, but he has very, very important business to arrange, and there are some who do not think as he thinks about it.  Shall we talk about something else, Capitaine Rotherby?  Tell me about your friends or relations, and where you live?  I would like so much to know everything.”

“I am afraid there is not much to tell,” I answered.  “You see I am what is called over here a younger son.  I have a brother who owns the house in which I was born, and all that sort of thing, and I have had to go out into the world and look for my fortune.  So far,” I continued, “I can’t say that I have been very successful.”

“You are poor, then?” she asked timidly.

“I am not rich,” I answered.  “Still, on the whole, I suppose for a bachelor I am comfortably off.  Then my brother has no sons, and his health is always delicate.  I do not count on that, of course, but I might have to succeed him.”

“Tell me his name?” she asked.

“Lord Welmington,” I answered,—­“the Earl of Welmington he is called.”

“And you would be that,” she asked naively, “if he died?”

“I should,” I answered, “but I should be very sorry to think that there was any chance of it.  I am going to find something to do very soon, probably at one of the embassies on the Continent.  The army at home, with no chance of a war, is dull work.”

“You play games and shoot, of course,” she asked, “like all your countrymen?”

“I am afraid I do,” I admitted.  “I have wasted a good deal of time the last few years.  I have made up my mind definitely now, though, that I will get something to do.  Ralph—­that’s my brother—­wants me to stand for Parliament for the division of Norfolk, where we live, and has offered to pay all my expenses, but I am afraid I do not fancy myself as a politician.”

“I would come and hear you speak,” she murmured.

“Thank you,” I answered, “but I have other accomplishments at which I shine more.  I would rather—­”

I broke off in the middle of my sentence, attracted by a sudden little exclamation from my companion.  There was the sound of a heavy fall close at hand.  I sprang to my feet.