But nothing he had said seemed to affect her.  She leaned back in her arm-chair perfectly calm, and occasionally smiled at the tragic manner of the showman.

“Good heavens!” muttered the clown uneasily, “can I be on the wrong track?”

He saw that his circle of listeners was increased by the presence of the doge, M. de Clameran.

“The third picture,” he said, after a roll of drums, “depicts the old mandarine after she has dismissed that most annoying of guests—­remorse—­from her bosom.  She promises herself that interest shall supply the place of love in chaining the too seductive youth to her side.  It is with this object that she invests him with false honors and dignity, and introduces him to the chief mandarins of the capital of the Celestial Empire; then, since so handsome a youth must cut a fine figure in society, and as a fine figure cannot be cut without money, the lady must needs to sacrifice all of her possessions for his sake.  Necklaces, rings, bracelets, diamonds, and pearls, all are surrendered.  The monster carries all these jewels to the pawnbrokers on Tien-Tsi Street, and then has the cruelty to refuse her the tickets, so that she may have a chance of redeeming her treasures.”

The clown thought that at last he had hit the mark.  Mme. Fauvel began to betray signs of agitation.

Once she made an attempt to rise from her chair; but it seemed as if her strength failed her, and she sank back, forced to listen to the end.

“Finally, ladies and gentlemen,” continued the clown, “the richly stored jewel-cases became empty.  The day came when the mandarine had nothing more to give.  It was then that the young scoundrel conceived the project of carrying off the jasper button belonging to the Mandarin Li-Fo—­a splendid jewel of incalculable value, which, being the badge of his dignity, was kept in a granite chest, and guarded by three soldiers night and day.  Ah! the mandarine resisted a long time!  She knew the innocent soldiers would be accused and crucified, as is the custom in Pekin; and this thought restrained her.  But her lover besought her so tenderly, that she finally yielded to his entreaties; and—­the jasper button was stolen.  The fourth picture represents the guilty couple stealthily creeping down the private stairway:  see their frightened look—­see—­”

He abruptly stopped.  Three or four of his auditors rushed to the assistance of Mme. Fauvel, who seemed about to faint; and at the same time he felt his arm roughly seized by someone behind him.

He turned around and faced De Clameran and Lagors, both of whom were pale with anger.

“What do you want, gentlemen?” he inquired politely.

“To speak to you,” they both answered.

“I am at your service.”

And he followed them to the end of the picture-gallery, near a window opening on a balcony.

Here they were unobserved except by the man in the Venetian cloak, whom the clown had so respectfully addressed as “M. the Count.”