She does all these things called social vagaries
because she has a fine scorn for the innate hypocrisy of the social
organization of this country. She loves freedom not wisely but too
well. To go on:
"Monsieur wrongs me also," she said. "In what are termed my escapades
I am alone. You appealed to me," with a directness which amazed me,
"because of your handsome face, your elegant form, your bright eyes.
You are a man who loves adventure which has the spice of danger in it.
My countrymen----." She crooked one of her bare shoulders, which shone
like yellow ivory in the subdued light. This rank flattery cooled me.
A woman who has any regard for a man is not likely to flatter him in
respect to his looks on so short and slight an acquaintance.
"Monsieur," she proceeded, "this is to be no escapade, no caprice. I
ask your aid as a desperate woman. At court I can find no one to
succor me, save at the peril of that which is dearer to me than my
life. Among the commoners, who would dare? An Englishman? It is too
much trouble. A Frenchman? I would trust him not quite so far as the
door.
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