to deal with; nothing but delicate _finesse_ would answer.

"Permit me to examine it," I said. She passed it to her left hand for me
to take. The butler made a step forward.

"Meanwhile, Madame," said the Baron, smiling, "I have no salt."

The instinct of hospitality prevailed;--she was about to return it.
Might I do an awkward thing? Unhesitatingly. Reversing my glass, I
gave my arm a wider sweep than necessary, and, as it met her hand with
violence, the _salière_ fell. Before it touched the floor I caught it
There was still a pinch of salt left,--nothing more.

"A thousand pardons!" I said, and restored it to the Baron.

His Excellency beheld it with dismay; it was rare to see him bend over
and scrutinize it with starting eyes.

"Do you find there what Count Arnaklos begs in the song," asked
Delphine,--"the secret of the sea, Monsieur?"

He handed it to the butler, observing, "I find here no"----

"Salt, Monsieur?" replied the man, who did not doubt but all had gone
right, and replenished it.

Had one told me in the morning that no intricate manoeuvres, but a
simple blunder, would effect this, I might have met him in the Bois de
Boulogne.