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“But I wish to speak to you alone.”

“And keep me without my breakfast, monsieur! And is that—American, too? I am far—far too hungry to talk seriously or even to listen. Come;” and she led the way into the house, laughing as she went.

Thus at breakfast nothing could be said. Madame Korvata, a small woman well into the fifties, with large eyes and ample appetite, looked at me sharply when I was presented to her, said that she had met some pleasant Americans in her day and some very unpleasant ones, and then seemed to forget all about me in the more absorbing and profitable study of breakfast.

Helga appeared desirous of impressing even on the servants that I was an American, for she talked chiefly of my country, and seemed to take a delight in putting intricate and searching questions. That I answered them so easily caused her constant astonishment and some amusement.

“How well you know your country, monsieur,” she said with a glance and a lift of the brows.

“It should not be surprising,” said I.