A VISITOR FROM FRANCE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIX, Issue 21130, 12 March 1932, Page 6 (Supplement)

A VISITOR FROM FRANCE.

MAM'SELLE MADELEINE.

IDLE CHATTER. BY NINA KIXGCOMB WATTY. Around the big brown rock to the left camo Madeleine, of tho dusky hair and eyes of night. She camo quickly, with the sunlight in her eyes and upon her head —a slim, gracious creature, full of the sweets of life. To bo here in New Zealand was a wondrous reality. It was not quite as sho had imagined it. Nothing ever is. The mental pictures she had painted were extravagant and foolish. No dark savages paraded tho byways with tomahawk or spears. It was the ignorance of the foreigner, she admitted to " Madame Gamage, as together they explored the sights. To-day, she and Madeleine had left the hotel to spend tha day at tho seaside. It was here that M'sieur Boteau had met her. Ho caught, the flash of her creamy frock. Something instantly attracted him. Could it really be ? Why, surely here was Mam'selle Lo Breton, with whom he had danced the previous season at the Embassy. As they met, lie stepped to lier. side. Hat off and lips parted he exclaimed with a flashing smile: "Mam' selle Le Breton ? " " Oui, M'sieur. And you?" Boteau laughed. He, at any rate, had been forgotten. "You do not remember me? No?" There was swift glimmering of white teeth in the sunlight; a perilous dimpling of rounded cheeks. " Nor the night you danced with M'sieur Boteau at the Embassy, nor how lie held your 'kerchief and your fan; nor the, roses, yon gave him from the chiffon at-your waist ? " " Oh, M'sieur, what a memory! Such little things, too!" She gave her little hand, laughing coquettishly into his serious eyes. Ah, sho was an out-and-out coquette—this petite Madeleine. " I have it still, Mam'selle! " " Have what, M'sieur? "

The rose, to be sure. And the memory of that gala night when we danced—and danced—and danced, and I danced my heart away. And you told me—" " Giel! M'sieur, I say many things I do not mean. One should remember nothing. It is not wise. All things are transient, my friend. We are here to-day, and gone to-morrow. ' I did not think that night wo two would meet again." .".No?" " No. I met so many that night of revelry, whom I have never seen since. Some accident, a chance occurrence, and w e meet to-day. But to-morrow ?" She shook her charming head, the wide brim of her rosc-wreathcd hat flopping in the breeze. "To-morrow, I may call, perhaps? You will not deny me that pleasure ? " " Seeing we meet in a foreign land, M'sieur, you may call." Her condescension was adorable. Boteau stooped low over the little outstretched hand and kissed it. " We are here in Auckland for a week," said Madeleine. "We go later to Rotorua." She gave her address. " Suppose you call to-morrow at four, say, and take tea with us ? Already I am late and Madame awaits me yonder. To-morrow, at fourl " Boteau watched her as she tripped away across the sands. An Inspiration.

When he called the following afternoon he found her in a corner of the drawing room. The sun flashing through the window shimmered on her dark hair, and caressed the dimples in her creamy cheeks. She was a gracious, palpitating suggestion of empyrean, a tender inspiration of beautiful womanhood. But there was a hauteur about her to-day that dimmed .the heartglow "burning at his breast. " Pray, M'sieur, be seated! " She motioned him to a far seat. Boteau frowned and took the one beside her. " I said over there, M'sieur." " I like it better, Oh, so much better here, Mam'selle." He was gaining courage. " It is Madame's chair, and presently, when she awakes . . ." " Let her sleep ! " " Hush, M'sieur, you frighten me. There is- something about you to-day that is strange.. You are so—so—Madeleine lifted her eyes for a fleeting instant and caught the light in his. Boteau wanted to say something, but held his breath. Ah! happy he who hath the gift of words! But Madeleine moved away to press a bell, and as she passed Madame, who dozed in a far corner, she dug her slyly in the side with the tips of her rosy fingers. Madame stirred and sat up. Madeleine, sweeping back to Boteau, laughed saucily from the sweet corners of her eyes. " Talk as much as you like, M'sieur. M:;dame and I are eager for news. Some scraps of gossip. A little idle chatter of Dijon? Oui! Then let us have it all. Come, M'sieur! " She busied herself with the teatray, just brought in, rattling the dainty teacups and making noise with chatter and the rapid beating of her little scarlet shoes against the leg of her chair. Boteau sipped his tea and ate the fancy confections. that -made him feel really ill. He listened to Madeleine's chatter with aching heart. To himself he said she was so difficile, so provokingly elusive. But, oh! She was the Madeleine with whom he had danced that wonderful night a year ago —and danced his heart away! Every day for the next fortnight he saw her in the dim sweet shadows of park and beach. But he was afraid to look forward for fear of losing that which had become inexpressively dear. How it was with Medeleine he could not guess. Then one morning he awoke to a new resolve. He would know to-day just how she felt toward him. From his filled wardrobe he chose a suit of palest grey. From the florist he purchased a carnation of the palest pink, and with cane and gloves continued on his way to the hotel. She was on the balcony when he arrived. Sunlight kissed her smiling, oval fare, caught the fire of blue and gold at the diamonds in her little brooch. '■ Ciol! Is it to a wedding that you go, M'sieur?" sho cried with shining eyes. "To your wedding I will go, if I may be your groom." Pale flame stained her creamy rheeks Madeleine lifted her littlo hands and laughed. How droll ynn are! What would Msieur Le Moyne say if ho could hear you now ? " "Le Moyne'" breathed Boteau. " Oui! .He is my fiance, M'sieur. Wo werl on my return to France." 'I hero was something hard now in the natural dulcet sweetness of her voice. " I am sorry, M'sieur, hut it is not good to lose the heart in one bound. It, is Euro to feel the ground soon . . ."