“I, madame?” said Calabressa, with great innocence.

“Oh yes.  And you are not on the side of the big battalions, eh?”

“I declare to you, madame—­”

She glanced at Reitzei.

“Your friend sleeps sound.  Come, shall I tell you something?  You did not say a word, for example, when you stepped on shore, to a gentleman in a big cloak who had a lantern—­”

“Madame, I beg of you!” he exclaimed, in a low voice, also glancing at Reitzei.

“What!” she said, laughing.  “Then you have the honor of the acquaintance of my old friend Biard?  The rogue, to take a post like that!  Oh, I think my husband could speak more frankly with you; I can only guess.”

“You are somewhat indiscreet, madame,” said Calabressa, coldly.

“I indiscreet?” she said, flickering off the ash of her cigarette with a finger of the small gloved hand.  Then she said, with mock seriousness, “How can one be indiscreet with a friend of the good man Biard?  Come, I will give you a lesson in sincerity.  My husband is gone to fight a duel, I told you; yes, but his enemy is a St. Petersburg general who belonged to the Third Section.  They should not let Russians play at Monte Carlo; it is so easy to pick a quarrel with them.  And now about myself; you want to know what I am—­what I am about.  Ah, I perceive it, monsieur.  Well, this time, on the other hand, I shall be discreet.  But if you hear of something within a few weeks—­if the whole of the world begins to chatter about it—­and you say, ’Well, that woman had pluck’—­then you can think of our little conversation during the night.  We must be getting near Amiens, is it not so?”

She took from her traveling-bag a small apparatus for showering eau-de-cologne in spray, and with this sprinkled her forehead; afterward removing the drops with a soft sponge, and smoothing her rebellious black hair.  Then she took out a tiny flask and cup of silver.

“Permit me, monsieur, to give you a little cognac, after so many cigarettes.  I fear you have only been smoking to keep me company—­”

“A thousand thanks, madame!” said Calabressa, who certainly did not refuse.  She took none herself; indeed, she had just time to put her bags in order again when the train slowed into Amiens station; and she, bidding her bewildered and bewitched companion a most courteous farewell, got out and departed.

Calabressa himself soon fell asleep, and did not wake until they were near Paris.  By this time the bundle of rugs in the corner had begun to show signs of animation.

“Well, friend Reitzei you have had a good sleep,” said Calabressa, yawning, and stretching his arms.

“I have slept a little.”

“You have slept all night—­what more?  What do you know, for example, of the young lady who was in the carriage?”

“I saw her come in,” Reitzei said, indifferently, “and I heard you talking once or twice.  What was she?”