Mademoiselle Adèle whispered in his ear some words of good counsel, upon
which he laughed and looked very affectionate.

However, she could not relinquish her hold of the interesting foreigner.
After she had coaxed him to drink several glasses of champagne, he
became livelier, and talked more.

'Ah!' cried she suddenly; 'I hear it in your speech. You are an
Englishman!'

The stranger grew quite red in the face, and answered quickly, 'No,
madame.'

Mademoiselle Adèle laughed. 'I beg your pardon. I know that Americans
feel angry when they are taken for Englishmen.'

'Neither am I an American,' replied the stranger.

This was too much for Mademoiselle Adèle. She bent over her plate and
looked sulky, for she saw that Mademoiselle Louison opposite was
enjoying her defeat.

The foreign gentleman understood the situation, and added, half aloud:
'I am an Irishman, madame.'

'Ah!' said Mademoiselle Adèle, with a grateful smile, for she was easily
reconciled.

'Anatole! Irishman--what is that?' she asked in a whisper.