As we had our wine and cheese and fruit, we discussed the excitement of Paris on a beautiful day. Later on, we went to the Louvre, and Théo grew eloquent, as we strolled through the Grande Gallerie, explaining some of the finer points of the art we viewed. I tried to concentrate, but my mind was on Franz and the decision I must make. People stared all the while, whispering about us, and several of them approached to ask if I would sign my name for them. I should have been flattered, but it took a great effort to be gracious. Théo smiled his wry, mischievous smile and reminded me that fame had its price. When I returned to the hotel late in the afternoon, I found the persistent Mr. Barnum lurking in the lobby, ready to pounce. His manner was even more flamboyant than his flowered waistcoat as he made a sweeping bow and launched into a paean about the wealth and glory awaiting me in America. Americans were starved for entertainment. They were ready to take me to their hearts. They would adore me.
