Marguerite clapped with childish delight, her gloved hands making soft sounds. She had a certain affinity for such tricks, even as simple as that. She had seen Monsieur Robert-Houdin and his feats of illusion years ago, and such things never ceased to intrigue her. She was even more enchanted that the fellow before her was polite enough to try to engage her in her mother tongue.
"Ah, vous parlez francais!" she exclaimed, offering her hand. She, too, had set down her own drink. "I am Marguerite Larousse. I am but recently arrived here. Do not you find such events amusing?"
She was nothing if not a conversationalist, and always attempted to engage.