rentes Groenlandoises, et je n'ai pas pu les vendre. Ah, vieux farceur,
tu vas voir ce que fen vais faire._"

A glorious creature--a really glorious creature--came out of an
adjoining room. She was as frail, as swaying as a garden lily. Her great
blue eyes turned irefully upon me, her bowed lips parted, her nostrils
quivered.

"_Et quant à vous, M. Grangeur Eschingan,_" she began, "_je vais vous
donner mon idée à moi ..._"

I did not understand the situation in the least, but I appreciated the
awkwardness of it. The world seemed to be standing on its head. I was
overcome; but I felt for the person in the next room. I did not know
what to do. Suddenly I found myself saying:

"I am extremely sorry, madam, but I don't understand French." An
expression of more intense vexation passed into her face--her beautiful
face. I fancy she wished--wished intensely--to give me the benefit of
her "_idée à elle_." She made a quick, violent gesture of disgusted
contempt, and turned toward the half-open door from which she had come.
She began again to dilate upon the little weaknesses of the person
behind, when silently and swiftly it closed. We heard the lock click.
With extraordinary quickness she had her mouth at the keyhole: "_Peeg,
peeg_," she enunciated. Then she stood to her full height, her face
became calm, her manner stately. She glided half way across the room,
paused, looked at me, and pointed toward the unmoving door.

"_Peeg, peeg_," she explained, mysteriously. I think she was warning me
against the wiles of the person behind the door. I gazed into her great