Briefly, sweetly, Maxine’s fingers touched his hand and then withdrew.  “Monsieur, in moments I am Max!”

Nothing of surprise, nothing of question came to him.  He only knew that a touch, infinitely desired, had lighted upon him—­that a comprehension born of immaterial things was luring him whither he knew not.

“You are Max, princess,” he said, swiftly, “but Max suddenly made possessor of a soul!  I’ve always fancied Max a mythical being—­a creature of eternal youth, fascinating as he is elusive—­a faun-like creature, peeping into the world from some secret grove, ready to dart back at any human touch.  Max’s lips were made for laughter; his eyes are too bright for tears.”

“And I, monsieur?  What am I?”

“You are the miracle!  You are the elusive creature deserting the green groves—­stepping voluntarily into the mortal world.”

“Yet if you know of me at all, you must know that I have left the mortal world and am seeking the secret groves.”

“I have been told that.”

“And you disbelieve?”

“I am afraid, princess, I do.”  He turned and looked at her—­at the slim body wrapped in its long, smooth cloak of velvet—­at the shadowed, questioning eyes.  “I know I am greatly daring, but there are moments when we are outside ourselves—­when we know and speak things of which we can give no logical account.  You have put life behind you; yet what is life but a will-o’-the-wisp?  Who can say where the light may not break forth again?”

“But have we not power over our senses, monsieur?  Can we not shut our eyes, even if the light does break forth?”

“No, princess, we cannot!  Because nature will inevitably say, ’I have given you eyes with which to see.  Open those eyes’!”

“Ah, there we differ, monsieur!”

Blake laughed.  “There, princess, you are the boy!  He, too, thinks he can cheat nature; but I preach my gospel to him, I tell him Nature will have her own.  If we will not bend to her, she will take and break us.  Ah, but listen to that!”

His discourse broke off; they both involuntarily raised their heads and looked toward the windows of the neighboring appartement.

“Princess!” he said, delightedly.  “I wouldn’t have had you miss this for ten thousand pounds!  Has Max described his neighbor, M. Cartel?  I tell you you will have a little of heaven when M. Cartel plays Louise!”

Very delicately, with a curious human clarity of sound, the violin of M. Cartel executed the first notes of Louise’s declaration in the duet with Julian—­’Depuis le jour ou je me suis donnee!’ One caught the whole intention of the composer in the few crystal notes—­one figured the whole scene—­the little house of love, the lovers in their Garden of Eden, and below Paris—­symbolic Paris!

“You know Louise, princess?”

“Yes, monsieur, I know Louise.”