''Suppose I were to tell you,'' said Paul Delroze, ''that I once stood face to face with him on French. . . .''Élisabeth looked up at him with the fond expression of a bride to whom the least word of the man she loves is a subject of wonder:''You have seen William II. in France?''''Saw him with my own eyes; and I have never forgotten a single one of the details that marked the meeting. And yet it happened very long ago.''He was speaking with a sudden seriousness, as though the revival of that memory had awakened the most painful thoughts in his mind.''Tell me about it, won't you, Paul?'' asked Élisabeth.