"I had already authorized Prudence to do so."

"As far as that goes, madame," I said, bowing, and succeeding in
getting more or less intelligible sounds out of my throat, "I
have already had the honour of being introduced to you."

Marguerite's beautiful eyes seemed to be looking back in memory,
but she could not, or seemed not to, remember.

"Madame," I continued, "I am grateful to you for having forgotten
the occasion of my first introduction, for I was very absurd and
must have seemed to you very tiresome. It was at the Opera
Comique, two years ago; I was with Ernest de --."

"Ah, I remember," said Marguerite, with a smile. "It was not you
who were absurd; it was I who was mischievous, as I still am, but
somewhat less. You have forgiven me?"

And she held out her hand, which I kissed.

"It is true," she went on; "you know I have the bad habit of
trying to embarrass people the first time I meet them. It is very
stupid. My doctor says it is because I am nervous and always ill;
believe my doctor."

"But you seem quite well."

"Oh! I have been very ill."

"I know."