He led me into a room, and put a man servant at my disposal with the
perfect ease and familiar graciousness of a man-of-the-world. Then he
left me saying:

"We will dine as soon as you are ready to come downstairs."

We took dinner, sitting opposite each other, on a terrace facing the sea.
I began to talk about this rich, distant, unknown land. He smiled, as he
replied carelessly:

"Yes, this country is beautiful. But no country satisfies one when they
are far from the one they love."

"You regret France?"

"I regret Paris."

"Why do you not go back?"

"Oh, I will return there."

And gradually we began to talk of French society, of the boulevards, and
things Parisian. He asked me questions that showed he knew all about
these things, mentioned names, all the familiar names in vaudeville known
on the sidewalks.

"Whom does one see at Tortoni's now?

"Always the same crowd, except those who died." I looked at him