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was the first to show her the beauty and luxury that life held out for those who were able to see.

"Sale Boche," she thought. Her eyes sparked with anger. She took a straw and began to sip long and dreamily, until her confusion settled, and an enticing caprice took its place-a strange, daring whim.

"How would it be if I were suddenly to reveal my identity, and show these 'wise-guys' how dull they really are?"

At this thought her breasts heaved excitedly. Only now did she become aware of Heinz's hungry eyes consuming the curves of her body. She heard him mutter hoarsely: "God, Mademoiselle, you're the most beautiful woman in Paris!"

Monique lit a cigarette, and blowing the smoke leisurely, lifted a sophisticated eyebrow as she glanced at Heinz.

"So you're a connoisseur of feminine beauty too, my dear Herr Kluger," she joked, "like Julius Caesar-good in battle and in the boudoir."

Heinz felt embarrassed. "You think"-he began-but Monique interrupted: "I don't think-I know," she said. "Men absorbed in politics have no feeling for beauty. Esthetics are a matter of private taste and the political-minded person is tasteless."

Heinz's face reddened. Is that girl mad? he thought. No one ever dared to talk to him in that fashion. He simply couldn't believe she was in earnest.

Across the table, the near-sighted Fritz listened attentively, while continuing his conversation with Clavelle.

"You are joking, Mademoiselle Cremieux," Heinz tried to console himself.

"Joking?" Monique asked, at the same time fixing her hair coquettishly. "Joking is not in my line, Herr Kluger; in fact, I've been criticized for not having a sense of humor. But I don't care what people say. I have my own way."