The Lost Ambassador

out in the entresol, exchanging greetings and waiting for their carriages. A backward glance as I had been about to turn into the Place de l'Opera had arrested my somewhat h

one by one. I was borne a little nearer to the door by the rush of people, and I was able, in most cases, to hear the directions of the men as they followed their womankind into the waiting vehicles. In nearly every case their destination was one of the famous restaurants. Music begets hunger in most capitals, and the cafés of Paris are never so full as after a great night at the Opera. To-night there had been a wonderful performance. The flow of people down the stairs seemed interminable. Young wome

delightful, and she walked as though her feet touched the clouds. Her laugh, which I heard distinctly as she brushed by me only a few feet away, was like music. Of all the people who had passed me, or whom I had come across during my fortnight's stay in Paris, there was no one half so attractive. The girl was absolutely charming; the man, remarkable not only in himself, but for a certain air of repressed emotion, which, while it robbed his features of the dignity of repose, was still, in a way, fascinating. They entered a waiting motor-car splendidly

for a light?" a quiet

that his complexion was almost olive. He had soft, curious-looking eyes. He was of medium height, dark, correctly dressed according to the fashion of his country, although

answered, accepting the

olutely cloudless sky. The match-an English wax one, by the way-burned without a flicke

honor to recollect me," he

at him st

o me, and yet-No, by Jove, I have it!" I broke off, with

een chief ma?tre d'h?tel in the café there for some years. The last ti

d have passed on, but, curiously enough, I felt a desire to continue the conversation. I had not as yet admitted the fact even to myself; but I w

Paris often

the Boulevard. "Once every six weeks I come over here. I go to the Ritz, Paillard's, the Café de Paris,-to the others also.

nchman yourself, L

on. Voilà tout. One cannot write menus there

ind it her

ugged his

to happiness. Have you never noticed, monsieur," he continued, "the difference? They do not plod here as do your English people. There is a buoyancy in their footsteps, a mir

ittle bitter

nswered. "We may envy, b

Louis remarked. "In London, it is always so d

lent for

Louis. "It isn't a very pleasant mission

d thoughtfully. "Paris is

n will but play the game. A man, who knows his Paris, must

itted. "Yet monsieur ha

e has warned the man of whom

emarked, "in which one might b

. So far," I declared, gloomily, "my pilgrimage has been an utter failure. I cannot meet

ugged his

rked. "For the rest, one may leave many burd

ok my

ed. "Paris is not for those who have anxieties, Louis. If ever I were suffering

aughed

t choose better. There is no place so gay

ed my sh

ative city,"

fair of the place. Yet of all these, if one seeks it, there is most distraction to be found here. Monsieur does not agree with me," he added, glancing into my face. "There is one thing

n what you say, L

ll the world is gay here, makes the solitude of the unfortunate who has no

ept for the companions of chan

e by side, and we came now to a standstill.

ere to sup, without a

d upon th

n saying. A man alone here, especially at night, seems to be looked upon as a sort of pariah. Women

iar smile at the corners of his li

two of the smallest restaurants up in the Montmartre. They are by way of being fashionable now, and

led me not in the least that my companion should be

ion that I am host. It is very good of you to take p

t there was something in his face wh

," he said. "We will star