I sat, smiling to myself in my purple-amber shadow, now in no very
special hurry. And now again she smiled, thoughtfully, rather approving
my own silence, as I guessed; perhaps because it showed no unmanly
perturbation--my lack of imagination passing for aplomb.

At last I could not, in politeness, keep this up further.

"_How may I serve the Baroness?_" said I.

She started back on the seat as far as she could go.

"How did you know?" she asked. "And who are _you_?"

I laughed. "I did not know, and did not guess until almost as I began to
speak; but if it comes to that, I might say I am simply an humble
gentleman of Washington here. I might be privileged to peep in at
ambassadors' balls--through the windows, at least."

"But you were not there--you did not see me? I never saw you in my life
until this very moment--how, then, do you know me? Speak! At once!" Her
satins rustled. I knew she was tapping a foot on the carriage floor.

"Madam," I answered, laughing at her; "by this amber purple shadow, with
flecks of scarlet and pink; by this perfume which weaves webs for me
here in this carriage, I know you. The light is poor, but it is good
enough to show one who can be no one else but the Baroness von Ritz."

I was in the mood to spice an adventure which had gone thus far. Of
course she thought me crazed, and drew back again in the shadow; but
when I turned and smiled, she smiled in answer--herself somewhat