"A little mercy, Madame, as you are beautiful," he said, wooing her with
his eyes. "Do not plague me beyond what a man can bear. Dismiss, I pray
you, this good creature--whose charms do but set off yours as the star
leads the eye to the moon--and make me the happiest man in the world by
so much of your company as you will vouchsafe to give me."

"That may be but a very little," she answered, letting her eyes fall
coyly, and affecting to handle the tucker of her low ruff. But he saw
that her lip twitched; and he could have sworn that she mocked him to
Suzanne, for the girl giggled.

Still by an effort he controlled his feelings. "Why so cruel?" he
murmured, in a tone meant for her alone, and with a look to match. "You
were not so hard when I spoke with you in the gallery, two evenings ago,
Madame."

"Was I not?" she asked. "Did I look like this? And this?" And,
languishing, she looked at him very sweetly after two fashions.

"Something."

"Oh, then I meant nothing!" she retorted with sudden vivacity. And she
made a face at him, laughing under his nose. "I do that when I mean
nothing, Monsieur! Do you see? But you are Gascon, and given, I fear,
to flatter yourself."

Then he saw clearly that she played with him: and resentment, chagrin,
pique got the better of his courtesy.

"I flatter myself?" he cried, his voice choked with rage. "It may be I