“‘But,’ she said with a little movement of invitation, ’one sees so few compatriots here—­if you have the time to come in and smoke a cigarette ... also the cigarette,’ she added, with another rippling laugh, ‘for we have few callers, and live alone—­’

“Hastily as I was about to accept, Carroll was before me, professing a nostalgia for the sound of the English tongue that made his recent protestations about Provencal a shameless hypocrisy.  Persuasive young rascal, Carroll Was—­poor chap ...  So the elder lady opened the grille and the wooden door beyond it, and we entered.

“By the light of the candle which the younger lady took from a bracket just within the door we saw that we were in a handsome hall or vestibule; and my wonder that Rangon had made no mention of what was apparently a considerable establishment was increased by the fact that its tenants must be known to be English and could be seen to be entirely charming.  I couldn’t understand it, and I’m afraid hypotheses rushed into my head that cast doubts on the Rangons—­you know—­whether they were all right.  We knew nothing about our young planter, you see....

“I looked about me.  There were tubs here and there against the walls, gaily painted, with glossy-leaved aloes and palms in them—­one of the aloes, I remember, was flowering; a little fountain in the middle made a tinkling noise; we put our caps on a carved and gilt console table; and before us rose a broad staircase with shallow steps of spotless stone and a beautiful wrought-iron handrail.  At the top of the staircase were more palms and aloes, and double doors painted in a clear grey.

“We followed our hostesses up the staircase.  I can hear yet the sharp clean click our boots made on that hard shiny stone—­see the lights of the candle gleaming on the handrail ...  The young girl—­she was not much more than a girl—­pushed at the doors, and we went in.

“The room we entered was all of a piece with the rest for rather old-fashioned fineness.  It was large, lofty, beautifully kept.  Carroll went round for Miss ... whatever her name was ... lighting candles in sconces; and as the flames crept up they glimmered on a beautifully polished floor, which was bare except for an Eastern rug here and there.  The elder lady had sat down in a gilt chair, Louis Fourteenth I should say, with a striped rep of the colour of a petunia; and I really don’t know—­don’t smile, Smith—­what induced me to lead her to it by the finger-tips, bending over her hand for a moment as she sat down.  There was an old tambour-frame behind her chair, I remember, and a vast oval mirror with clustered candle-brackets filled the greater part of the farther wall, the brightest and clearest glass I’ve ever seen....”

He paused, looking at my cigarette case, which he had taken into his hand again.  He smiled at some recollection or other, and it was a minute or so before he continued.