remembered that he hadn't seen me before, I guessed more or less what
his almost startled look meant. Still, I suppose most girls--anyway,
half-French, half-American girls--would have done exactly what I
proceeded to do.

I looked as innocent as a fluffy chicken when it first sidles out of its
eggshell into the wide, wide world; and said: "Oh, I do hope I haven't a
smudge on the end of my nose?"

"No," replied the chauffeur, instantly becoming expressionless. "Why do
you ask?"

"Only I was afraid, from your face, that there was something wrong."

"So far as I can see, there's nothing wrong," said he, calmly, and
broke a piece of bread. "Very good butter, this, that they give to _nous
autres_," he went on, in the same tone of voice, and my respect for him
increased.

(Men are really rather nice creatures, take them all in all!)

As he had sacrificed his duty to the car for me, I sacrificed my duty to
my digestion for him, and bolted my luncheon. Then, when released from
guard duty, he returned to his true allegiance, and I ventured to walk
on the terrace to admire the view.

Far away it stretched, over garden, and pineland, and flowery
meadow-spaces, to the blue, silver-sewn sea, which to my fancy looked
Homeric. Nothing modern caught the eye to break the romance of the
illusion. All was as it might have been twenty or thirty centuries ago,