“Yes,” said Angela tranquilly, “But Florian is entirely different to most men.”

The Marquis was moved to smile, but did not.  He merely bowed with a deep and reverential courtesy.

“You have reason to know him best,” he said, “and no doubt he deserves your entire confidence.  For me—­I willingly confess myself a vaurien—­but I assure you I am not as bad as I seem.  Your friend Sylvie is safe from me.”

Angela’s eyes lightened,—­her mind was greatly relieved.

“You will leave her to herself—­” she began.

“Certainly I will leave her to herself.  She will not like it, but I will do it!  She is going away to-morrow,—­I found that out from her maid.  Why will you beautiful ladies keep maids?  They are always ready to tell a man everything for twenty or forty francs.  So simple!—­so cheap!—­Sylvie’s maid is my devoted adherent,—­and why?- -not only on account of the francs, but because I have been careful to secure her sweetheart as my valet, and he depends upon me to set him up in business.  So you see how easy it is for me to be kept aware of all my fair lady’s movements.  This is how I learned that she is going away to-morrow—­and this is why I came here to-day.  She has given me the slip—­she has avoided me and now I will avoid her.  We shall see the result.  I think it will end in a victory for me.”

“Never!” said Angela, “You will never win Sylvie to your way of thinking, but it is quite possible she may win you!”

“That would be strange indeed,” said the Marquis lightly, “The world is full of wonders, but that would be the most wonderful thing that ever happened in it!  Commend me to the fair Comtesse, Mademoiselle, and tell her it is I who am about to leave Paris.”

“Where are you going?” asked Angela impulsively.

“Ah, feminine curiosity!” said the Marquis laughing, “How it leaps out like a lightning flash, even through the most rigid virtue!  Chere Mademoiselle, where I am going is my own secret, and not even your appealing looks will drag it out of me!  But I am in no hurry to go away; I shall not fly off by the midnight train, or the very early one in the morning, as your romantic friend the Comtesse Sylvie will probably do,—­I have promised the Abbe Vergniaud to hear him preach on Sunday.  I shall listen to a farewell sermon and try to benefit by it,—­after that I take a long adieu of France;—­be good enough to say to the Countesse with my humblest salutations!”

He bowed low over Angela’s hand, and with a few more light parting words took his graceful presence out of the room, and went down the stairs humming a tune as he departed.

After he had gone Angela sat for some minutes in silence thinking.  Then she went to her desk and wrote a brief note to the Comtesse as follows:—­

“Dear Sylvie:  Dismiss your maid.  She is in the employ of Fontenelle and details to him all your movements.  He has been here for half an hour and tells me that he takes a long adieu of France after Sunday, and he has promised me to leave you to yourself.  I am sure you are glad of this.  My uncle and I go to Rome next week.