"Are you sure?"

"I never knew it to fail."

"How does that happen?"

"I don't know why it is, but it always does happen. Effect of mental telepathy, perhaps. The man knows that he is to be given another chance, and comes to get it, I fancy."

"But Monsieur von Ibn is so _very_ singular!"

"Every man is singular!"

"My husband wasn't. And he wasn't ever the least bit jealous," she stopped to sigh. "I like jealous men!" she added.

"Yes," said Molly, dryly, "so I observed."

"He never lost his temper either," Rosina continued. "We never had anything to make up. And making up is so delicious. Oh, me!" she sighed, and her eyes filled with tears again.

"Never mind," said Molly, consolingly, "you'll soon be making it up this time."

"Don't you think," said Rosina, slowly, "that he ought to have sent some sort of an apology last night; it could have been put under the door, no matter how late it was, you know?"

"He isn't that sort of a man, I fancy."

"But his behavior was so unpardonable!"

"Yes, but he doesn't see that."

"Then I don't care if I never do meet him again," Rosina exclaimed pa.s.sionately, and the next instant she burst into tears. "He's so interesting," she sobbed; "and his way of speaking is such an everlasting joy to me; and he never means to marry; and I never mean to marry; and I know that he really cared a great deal about me; and now it's--all--all over!"

Molly leaned over and kissed her, drew a comforting arm around her waist, and gave her an affectionate squeeze.

"Don't take it so awfully to heart, my dear," she whispered soothingly; "we all have troubles of one kind, if not of another. Here's a long letter come by the morning post from my dear gray-caped lieutenant, and it's just full of the worst sort of desperation over our mutual affairs.

He knows that we can't possibly marry without a certain amount of money, which we have neither of us got, and so there you are!"

"How much is it?" Rosina asked dully. She felt that she ought to try and make an effort to interest herself in the lives of others, even if her own had so completely crashed in.

"Oh, it's something awful in pounds, but in those Italian _lire_!--why, it's not to be thought of for a moment. He thinks that he had best chuck up the army and take me to America instead!"

"Oh, Molly, don't let him do that! We haven't any Italians in America except organ-grinders and miners, and the Amba.s.sador, of course!"

"I knew it wouldn't do," said the Irish girl. Then she shrugged her shoulders and laughed.

"But then I never did intend to marry him, anyhow!"

They drove back to the hotel, and Rosina's eyes were fairly presentable when the _Portier_ came out to receive them.

"There is a letter just come for madame," he said, as they entered the Kreuzgang; "it is in the office; I will bring it at once."

"There!" Molly whispered, "do you see!"

Rosina trembled slightly as she held out her hand and saw the hotel stamp of Zurich on the envelope. Then she tore it open and pulled out the single folded sheet contained therein.

It was her bill, receipted, which Ottillie had let fall in the haste of their early departure!

Madame la Princesse Russe having a migraine that afternoon, the two friends had the pleasure of a tete-a-tete dinner at half-past six. They sat by one of the great windows of what used to be the chapel of the monastery, but is now the dining-room of the Inselhaus, and enjoyed the sweet lake breeze, while their tongues ran delightfully. Rosina, liberally refreshed by a long nap, and mightily reinforced as to her pride by the last terrific blow of the letter, was in the best possible spirits, and her gayety quite rivalled, if it did not surpa.s.s, that of her companion.

As the waiter was removing the salad, a shadow fell suddenly athwart the floor at their side, and Molly, looking quickly upward, beheld--the man!

He was in evening dress, calm, cool, and smiling, and neither the surprised face of the one, nor the violent start of the other shook his composure in the least.

"_Vous allez bien, mesdames?_" he asked politely, and then, speaking to the waiter with authority:

"Lay another place here," he said, indicating the end of the small table, "for I shall dine with you, _n'est-ce pas_?" he added, looking straight at Rosina.

She appeared to have been stricken suddenly dumb, and was so evidently incapable of speech that Molly came boldly to the front with the un-original remark:

"When _did_ you come?"

"By Schaffhausen, that _train-rapide_ that does go so fast. I had been more wise to have come this morning by the train as madame, for this afternoon the tourists were very terrible--also the heat."

"Was it dusty?" she went on.

"I believe you well that it was. And you," he continued, turning to Rosina, who sat helplessly staring at her plate, and was very pale except for a crimson spot on either cheek, "had you a pleasant ride?"

"No, she hadn't," said her faithful friend; "she arrived all used up."

"You were made too tired, and do not feel well?" he asked, addressing the scarlet cheeks again; "truly, you look much so. What has arrived in Zurich to make you like that?"

He put the question in a tone the intensity of which forced her to lift her eyes to his. Molly did not see the glance, for the infinitude of her own experiences led her to find the moment favorable for gazing out of the window in a sort of rapt admiration for the Insel rose-bushes in the foreground and the placid Bodensee beyond.

It was the waiter who jarred them all three back to the knowledge of mundane things by bringing soup for the latest arrival and ices for his two companions.

"Ah, now I may eat!" the gentleman exclaimed in a tone of deep satisfaction, and began at once.

"You must not be surprised over me," he said to Molly, with a slight smile.

"I was not surprised," she rea.s.sured him.

"Because I have not eaten to-day before," he explained.

"Really?"

"Yes, of a truthfulness. I am most _drole_ as that. I may never eat when I am much troubled."

"Dear me, have you been troubled to-day?"