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“What I have to say cannot wait, mademoiselle.”

“I make a very bad listener when I am bending from flower to flower, M. American. Unless it is that you are going.”

“That will depend on how you take my news.”

“Then you are not going at once,” she said quickly. “Are not these lovely?” and she held up a bunch of flowers for me to admire, and looked laughingly at me over them.

“They are as lovely as——” I paused, looking into her eyes.

“Well?” she challenged.

“The hue of those blossoms rivals even that of your eyes.”

“Is that an—an American form of compliment? I do not care for compliments.”

“My compliment was for the flower, mademoiselle.”

“Very pretty—but too Western to be Russian monsieur. But come, we will go in. I am always hungry in the mornings. Will you mind breakfasting with me alone? M. Boreski is coming afterwards.”

“I shall be delighted.”

“What, to see him?” This with a gay little laugh.

“No, to breakfast with you alone.”

“Well, it will be practically alone. Madame Korvata, excellent guardian and good soul that she is, has reached the age which thinks more of what is on the table than of those who are at it.”