“Under those conditions?”

“Under those conditions, it would be unpardonable for me to acquiesce.”

“Then what do you intend to do?”

“What do I intend to do?” Morhange leaned back in the armchair and smilingly launched a puff of smoke toward the ceiling.

“Nothing,” he said.  “And that is all that is necessary.  Man has this superiority over woman.  He is so constructed that he can refuse advances.”

Then he added with an ironical smile: 

“A man cannot be forced to accept unless he wishes to.”

I nodded.

“I tried the most subtle reasoning on Antinea,” he continued.  “It was breath wasted.  ‘But,’ I said at the end of my arguments, ’why not Le Mesge?’ She began to laugh.  ‘Why not the Reverend Spardek?’ she replied.  ’Le Mesge and Spardek are savants whom I respect.  But

Maudit soit a jamais reveur inutile, Qui voulut, le premier, dans sa stupidite, S’eprenant d’un probleme insoluble et sterile, Aux choses de l’amour meler l’honnetete.

“‘Besides,’ she added with that really very charming smile of hers, ‘probably you have not looked carefully at either of them.’  There followed several compliments on my figure, to which I found nothing to reply, so completely had she disarmed me by those four lines from Baudelaire.

“She condescended to explain further:  ’Le Mesge is a learned gentleman whom I find useful.  He knows Spanish and Italian, keeps my papers in order, and is busy working out my genealogy.  The Reverend Spardek knows English and German.  Count Bielowsky is thoroughly conversant with the Slavic languages.  Besides, I love him like a father.  He knew me as a child when I had not dreamed such stupid things as you know of me.  They are indispensable to me in my relations with visitors of different races, although I am beginning to get along well enough in the languages which I need....  But I am talking a great deal, and this is the first time that I have ever explained my conduct.  Your friend is not so curious.’  With that, she dismissed me.  A strange woman indeed.  I think there is a bit of Renan in her but she is cleverer than that master of sensualism.”

“Gentlemen,” said Le Mesge, suddenly entering the room, “why are you so late?  They are waiting dinner for you.”

The little Professor was in a particularly good humor that evening.  He wore a new violet rosette.

“Well?” he said, in a mocking tone, “you have seen her?”

Neither Morhange nor I replied.

The Reverend Spardek and the Hetmari of Jitomir already had begun eating when we arrived.  The setting sun threw raspberry lights on the cream-colored mat.

“Be seated, gentlemen,” said Le Mesge noisily.  “Lieutenant de Saint-Avit, you were not with us last evening.  You are about to taste the cooking of Koukou, our Bambara chef, for the first time.  You must give me your opinion of it.”