This diversion would have ended soon in any event; but it was brought to an abrupt termination by a cablegram from my New York lawyers, asking me to return to America at once.  Some rascality it was, on the part of the agent of my estate, which had alarmed them; the cablegram was bare of detail.  At any rate, I could not afford to disregard it, and arranged passage on a liner sailing from Cherbourg the following day.

My hostess gave me a farewell dinner, which heightened my regret at being forced to leave, and little Eugenie seemed really grieved at my departure.  It is pleasant to leave a welcome behind you; that is really the only necessary axiom of the traveler.

Janvour took me to the railroad station, and even offered to accompany me to Cherbourg; but I refused to tear him away from his little paradise.

We stood on the platform arguing the matter, when I suddenly became aware of that indistinct flutter and bustle seen in public places at some unusual happening or the unexpected arrival of a great personage.

I turned and saw that which was worthy of the interest it had excited.

In the first place, the daintiest little electric brougham in the world, fragile and delicate as a toy—­a fairy’s chariot.  Then the fairy herself descended.  She cannot be described in detail.

I caught a glimpse of glorious golden hair, softly massive; gray-blue eyes shot with lightning, restless, devouring, implacable, indescribably beautiful; a skin wondrously fine, with the purity of marble and the warmth of velvet; nose and mouth rather too large, but perfectly formed and breathing the fire and power of love.  Really it was rather later that I saw all this; at the time there was but a confused impression of elegance and beauty and terrible power.

She passed from the brougham to her railway carriage supremely unconscious of the hundreds of eyes turned on her, and a general sigh of satisfaction and appreciation came from the throng as she disappeared within her compartment.  I turned to Janvour.

“Who is she?”

“What?” he exclaimed in surprise.  “But my dear Lamar, not to know her argues one a barbarian.”

“Nevertheless, I do not know her.”

“Well, you will have an opportunity.  She is going to America, and, since she is on this train, she will, of course, take the same boat as yourself.  But, my friend, beware!”

“But who is she?”

“Desiree Le Mire.”

Chapter II.

Beginning the dance.

It developed, luckily for me, that my lawyers had allowed themselves to become unduly excited over a trifle.  A discrepancy had been discovered in my agent’s accounts; it was clearly established that he had been speculating; but the fellow’s excessive modesty and moderation had saved me from any serious inconvenience or loss.