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It was his way to force things to his liking, if possible; and he wanted to hear about the woman why, he did not ask himself. The new arrival, Fancourt by name, kept looking at him quizzically. Gaston presently said that he would visit the menagerie and see this famous dompteuse that afternoon. "She's a brick," said Bagshot.
Besides, as he said to himself, he would soon go to join the yacht at Gibraltar, and all this would be over-over. All this? All what? A gipsy, a dompteuse what was she to him? She interested him, he liked her, and she liked him, but there had been nothing more between them.
For a long time they watched the performance with delight, clapping and calling bravo like boys. Presently the famous dompteuse entered, Mademoiselle Victorine, passing just below Gaston. He looked down, interested, at the supple, lithe creature making for the cages of lions in the amphitheatre. The figure struck him as familiar. Presently the girl turned, throwing a glance round the theatre.
"The woman is Mademoiselle Victorine, the dompteuse." "Ah, I've not seen her yet. She burst upon Paris while I was away. Now, straight: no lies: who are the others?" Meyerbeer hesitated; for, of course, he did not wish to speak of Gaston at this stage in the game. But he said: "Count Ploare and Zoug-Zoug." "Why don't you tell me the truth?" "I do. Now, who is Zoug-Zoug?" "Find out."
She was not able, thinking it over afterward, to recall anything that could have served as a cue for so far-fetched a supposition as that. It could have sprung from nothing more palpable than the contrast suggested between Paula, the compeller, the dompteuse, and the man who had just been so describing her.
"You have done well," he said admiringly, his face glowing. "I am a successful dompteuse," she replied. She then asked him who was his companion in the box. He told her. She insisted on sending for Jacques. Meanwhile they talked of her profession, of the animals. She grew eloquent. Jacques arrived, and suddenly remembered Andree stammered, was put at his ease, and dropped into talk with Annette.
The postman had not delivered it on his rounds, because the address was not correct. It was for madame. Andree took it, started at the handwriting, tore open the envelope, and read: Zoug-Zoug congratulates you on the conquest of his nephew. Zoug- Zoug's name is not George Maur, as you knew him. Allah's blessing, with Zoug-Zoug's! What fame you've got now dompteuse, and the sweet scandal!
"You needn't be afraid to say what's in your mind," he assured her. "It wasn't that," she told him. "I realized that I had been quoting somebody else. Anthony March said once of Paula that if she had not been an artist she might have been a dompteuse." John settled himself more comfortably against his tree trunk.
Besides, as he said to himself, he would soon go to join the yacht at Gibraltar, and all this would be over-over. All this? All what? A gipsy, a dompteuse what was she to him? She interested him, he liked her, and she liked him, but there had been nothing more between them.
The other had everything in her favour; what had Andree the gipsy girl, or Mademoiselle Victorine, the dompteuse? One Sunday evening, after dining together, she asked him to take her to see Saracen. It was a long-standing promise. She had never seen him riding; for their hours did not coincide until the late afternoon or evening. Taking Annette, they went to his new apartments.
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