"I was in Paris at the time of the scandal with Bardelys." I looked up quickly.
"Was it then that you met her ?" I inquired in an idle sort of way.
"Yes.

I was in the confidence of Bardelys, and one night after we had supped at his hotel--one of those suppers graced by every wit in Paris--he asked me if I were minded to accompany him to the Louvre.

We went.

A masque was in progress." "Ah," said I, after the manner of one who suddenly takes in the entire situation; "and it was at this masque that you met the Duchesse ?" "You have guessed it.

Ah, monsieur, if I were to tell you of the things that I witnessed that night, they would amaze you," said he, with a great air and a casual glance at Mademoiselle to see into what depth of wonder these glimpses into his wicked past were plunging her.
"I doubt it not," said I, thinking that if his imagination were as fertile in that connection as it had been in mine he was likely, indeed, to have some amazing things to tell.