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THE CONFESSION OF A FOOL 59
masculine about her, nothing emancipated, nor was she
in the least prudish. She was certainly amusing, and
time passed quickly.
But what surprised me most and ought to have been
a warning to me, was the excessive mirth with which the
Baroness greeted any doubtful remark which fell from
the girl’s lips. Then a wild laugh, a cynical expression
would flit over her countenance, giving evidence that she
was deeply versed in the secrets of excess.
While we were thus amusing ourselves, the Baron’s
uncle joined our little party. A retired captain, a
widower of many years’ standing, very chivalrous, of
pleasing manners, a little daring in his old-fashioned
courteousness, he was, thanks to his connection with the
family, the declared favourite of these ladies, whose
affections he had succeeded in winning.
He looked upon it as his right to fondle them, kiss their
hands, pat their cheeks. As he came in, both of them
fell on his neck with little exclamations of pleasure.
"Take care, my little ones! Two at a time is too
much for an old fellow like me. Take care ! You are
burning j’ourselves. Quick, down with your hands, or
I won’t be responsible for anything."
The Baroness held her cigarette, poised between her
lips, towards him.
" A little fire, please, uncle !
"
" Fire ! Fire ! I’m sorry I can’t oblige you, my child,
my fire has gone out," he answered slyly.
"Has it?"
She boxed his ears with her finger-tips. The old man
seized her arm, held it between his hands and felt it up to
•
her shoulder.
" You’re not as thin as you look, my darling," he said,
stroking her soft flesh through her sleeve.
The Baroness did not object. The compliment seemed
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