The
diamond was in that little shell. But how to obtain it? I had no novice
to deal with; nothing but delicate _finesse_ would answer.
"Permit me to examine it," I said. She passed it to her left hand for me
to take. The butler made a step forward.
"Meanwhile, Madame," said the Baron, smiling, "I have no salt."
The instinct of hospitality prevailed;--she was about to return it.
Might I do an awkward thing? Unhesitatingly. Reversing my glass, I
gave my arm a wider sweep than necessary, and, as it met her hand with
violence, the _saliere_ fell. Before it touched the floor I caught it
There was still a pinch of salt left,--nothing more.
"A thousand pardons!" I said, and restored it to the Baron.
His Excellency beheld it with dismay; it was rare to see him bend over
and scrutinize it with starting eyes.
"Do you find there what Count Arnaklos begs in the song," asked
Delphine,--"the secret of the sea, Monsieur?"
He handed it to the butler, observing, "I find here no"----
"Salt, Monsieur?" replied the man, who did not doubt but all had gone
right, and replenished it.
Had one told me in the morning that no intricate manoeuvres, but a
simple blunder, would effect this, I might have met him in the Bois de
Boulogne.
"We will not quarrel," said my neighbor, lightly, with reference to the
popular superstition.
"Rather propitiate the offended deities by a crumb tossed over the
shoulder," added I.
"Over the left?" asked the Baron, to intimate his knowledge of another
idiom, together with a reproof for my _gaucherie_.
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