Her breath was like orris, and went to his head like wine.
"Monsieur," she said, "is it possible that you have succumbed to the charms of Madame the countess ?" He laughed.

"One may admire exquisite bric-a-brac without loving it." "Bric-a-brac! Poor Elsa!" and Madame laughed.

"If it were the countess I could aid you." "Love is not merchandise, to traffic with." Madame's cheeks grew warm.

Sometimes the trick of fence is beaten down by a tyro's stroke.
"Eh, bien, since it is not the countess--" He came toward her so swiftly that instinctively she rose and moved to the opposite side of her chair.

Something in his face caused her to shiver.