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 But what annoyed me most of all was that my Don Juan evidently found the evening extremely successful. After dinner he sat down in a most comfortable easy-chair, sipped his liqueur and smoked his cigar in leisurely and most careful fashion, while he looked amiably at me, talking to me in a kind, uncle-like voice as if I was a baby.

In the midst of it all he asked, 'Well, is it so dangerous after all to drink champagne with me?'

Ye gods, no! dangerous, one could hardly call it, but not very amusing either.

I wonder was he merely acting a part, or is he, by nature, such a cold fish.

Just for a moment after we entered the room, and the waiter had left us, he seemed so utterly different. I stood in front of the mirror taking off my hat. He stood behind, politely helping me. When at last I had finished by smoothing my hair with my pocket-comb, and turned round, he caught my hand and said, 'Now may I be allowed to look at you?'

I asked, 'Well, is it a disappointment? Do you regret you are going to spend the evening with such an ugly girl?'

'Ugly?' he answered, 'just the reverse.' For a moment he seemed to consider the question before he continued, 'I hope you don't want any compli ments. You are not beautiful, but you are quite lovely. Fresh and young, like leaves in May, with a skin like fruit blossoms, and I have never seen a mouth so like a cherry before.'