CHAPTER XVI.
A CONTRETEMPS IN A CARRIAGE.
My slavery lasted somewhat longer than three weeks, and less than a month; and was brought, oddly enough, to an abrupt conclusion.

This was how it happened.
I had, as usual, attended Madame de Marignan one evening to the Opera, and found myself, also as usual, neglected for a host of others.

There was one man in particular whom I hated, and whom (perhaps because I hated him) she distinguished rather more than the rest.

His name was Delaroche, and he called himself Monsieur le Comte Delaroche.

Most likely he was a Count---I have no reason to doubt his title; but I chose to doubt it for mere spite, and because he was loud and conceited, and wore a little red and green ribbon in his button-hole.