He turned and smiled at her--fresh and blooming in her furs.
"No, my dear young lady. But thank you for suggesting it."
"Is it very dangerous?"
"Very. But I think you ought to try it. It is a revelation. It is an
epoch in your life. When I was a younger man I used to sneak away to an
ice-hill where I was not known, and spend hours of the keenest
enjoyment. Where is Paul?"
"He has just gone over there with Etta."
"She refuses to go?"
"Yes," answered Maggie.
Steinmetz looked down at his companion with his smile of quiet
resignation.
"You tell me you are afraid of mice," he said.
"I hate mice," she replied. "Yes--I suppose I am afraid of them."
"The princess is not afraid of _rats_--she is afraid of very little, the
princess--and yet she will not go on the ice-hill. What strange
creatures, mademoiselle! Come, let us look for Paul. He is the only man
who may be trusted to take you down."
They found Paul and Etta together in one of the brilliantly lighted
kiosks where refreshments were being served, all hot and steaming, by
fur-clad servants. It was a singular scene. If a coffee-cup was left for
a few moments on the table by the watchful servitors, the spoon froze to
the saucer. The refreshments--bread and butter, dainty sandwiches of
caviare, of pate de foie gras, of a thousand delicatessen from Berlin
and Petersburg--were kept from freezing on hot-water dishes.
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