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That evening, a few minutes before nine o'clock, I descended from a cab in front of No. 8 Rue d'Alouette, and was ushered into a pretty reception-room by an irreproachable servant, who disappeared directly with my card. In a few moments the young Countess came in, exquisite in her silvery dinner-gown, eyes bright, white arms extended in a charming, impulsive welcome.
"You don't know what awaits you at nine this evening?" "You," I said, fascinated. The color swept her face; she dropped me a deep courtesy. "At nine, then," she said. "No. 8 Rue d'Alouette." I bowed, took my hat, gloves, and stick, and attended her to her carriage below.
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