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The Lost Ambassador

Chapter 3 DELORA

Word Count: 3207    |    Released on: 06/12/2017

were bound. He answered me only in monosyllables. I was conscious all the time of a certain subtle but unmistakable change in his manner. Up to the moment of his suggesting this expediti

uis was servant and I was master. It had pleased me to make a companion of him for a short time, and his manner had been a perfect acknowledgment of our relative positions. And now it seemed to me that there was a change. Louis had become more like a man, less like a waiter. There was

ngers there. I am not at all keen, really, and I am afraid I am not fit company for anybody. Better drop me here and go on

opened his mouth but said nothing. He looked away into the darkness once more, and then back

ur sake. You are a gentleman of great position. Afterwards you might fee

n the shoulder

adventurer, a little of a Bohemian. There is no one else who has a claim upon my lif

There is no music, no dancing. The interest is only in the people who go there, and their lives. It

a difference,

nswered. "Yo

ismissed the man and looked for a moment or two up and down the pavement. His caution appeared to be quite needless, fo

ispered. "There are many people her

floor of the café through which we passed was like a thousand others in different parts of Paris. The floor was sanded, the people were of the lower orders,-rough-looking men drinking beer or sipping cordials; women from whom one instinctively looked away, and whose shrill laughter was devoid of a single note of music. It was all very flat, very uninteresting. But Louis led the

in the restaurant," he said at o

discern anything of the sort, some sign must have passed between them. At any rate, withou

iend, monsie

nswered, in a low tone. "We sh

s. A man came out of the room and walked rapidly toward us. He was of middle height, and dressed in ordinary morning clothes, wearing a bla

exclaimed, "it is

taurant, for such I imagined him to be, glanced towards me, and I was fairly certain that I formed the subject of their c

Deux épingles. He has been explaining to me how difficult it is to find

r Carvi

. But indeed, monsieur, people seem to find my little

st surmise. The guests, of whom the room was almost full, were all well-dressed and apparently of the smart world. The tourist element was lacking. There were a few men there in morning clothes, but these were dressed with the rigid exactness of the Frenchman, who often, from choice, affects this style of toilet. From the first I felt that the place possessed an atmosphere. I could not describe it, but, quite apart from Louis' few words concerning it, I knew that it

arked. "A bottle of the Pommery, Go?t Anglai

alled by some one at the other end of the room and hurried away

d. "You see nothing here differ

ange to find a restaurant de luxe up here, when below there

ook around at these people, monsieur. Look around carefully. Tell me

were relaxing freely enough,-laughing, talking, and making love,-but behind it all there seemed a note of seriousness, an intentness in their faces which seemed to speak of a career, of things to be done in the future, or something accomplished in the past. The woman who sat at the opposite table to me-tall, with yellow hair, and face as pale as alabaster-was a striking personality anywhere. Her blue eyes were deep-set, and she seemed to have made no effort to conceal the dark rin

asked, "who

e, and his voice sunk

sons in the room. He is the man whom they call the uncrowned

made his mon

r little contractio

Henri Bartot was one of the wildest youths in Paris. It was he who started t

ow?" I

ouis whispered. "The man who offends him to-night

l lingered about his thick, straight lips and heavy jaw. The woman by his side seemed incomprehensible. I saw now that she had eyes of turquoise blue and a complexi

She belongs to him-Bartot. It is not safe

ftly and sip

t back to London. You are living he

ring which comes to them appeals to her vanity. There was a young Englishman once, he sent a note to her-not here, but at the Café

gh she understood Louis' warning, her lips parted for a moment in a faint, contemptuous smile. She leaned over and touched the man Bartot on the

ispered in my ear softly, "that I

inst any of these people. I will not look at them any more. She knew what she was

who admire her. But after all, what is the use? One has

d all this time that they had escaped my notice? Then I saw that they were sitting at an ex

se two at the small round table on the left,-the t

ange in his face from indifference to seriousness. For some reason or ot

onsieur ask

ng about them except that they are distinctive, and

m often?" Louis as

have haunted all the places where one goes,-the Race Course, the Bois, the Armenonville and Pré Catela

of them beyond tha

y, "and in England, you know, it is not the custom to stare at women as these Fren

attractive," m

"only she seems scarcely old enough

slowly, "is a Brazilia

ve in Paris

nse estates somewhere in his own country. He comes over here every year to sel

girl?"

France at a convent somewhere in the south, I believe. I think I

, "if she is going

onize me," he continued, "he will certainly see more of them,

ion was broken off, laughter was checked, even the waiters stood still in their places. The eyes of every one seemed turned towards the door. One or two of the men rose, and in the faces of these was manifest a sudden expression in which was present more or less of absolute terror. Bartot for a moment shrank back in his chair as though he had been struck, only to recover himself the next second; and the lady with the turquoises bent over and whispered in his ear. One person only left his place,-a young man who had been sitting at a table at the other end of the room with one of the gayest parties. At the very first note of alarm he had sprung to his feet. A few seconds later, with swift, silent movements and face as

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