"Are they black knaves, too?" I asked.

She tapped me on the arm with her fan.

"Don't be sarcastic, my dear," she said; "though, I admit, we were very forward."

"Nonsense!" I replied. "This is a Masque. Only, are you quite sure we were the first men you bantered?"

"You forget, sir; Folly has no past," she said.

"A true word, mademoiselle," I agreed. "Shall it be so with us when we part?"

She looked up at me a moment.

"Monsieur must be married," she laughed.

"Every man is married--or hopes to be," said I.

She tapped me again with her fan.

"You forget, again," she said. "Folly never--moralizes."

"True," said I, "she hasn't any morals."

"Why make Folly feminine?" she asked. "Methinks, there is usually a Knave for every Queen."

"Methinks, I know one Queen who could have Knaves as many as she listed," I answered, bending down and trying to see her eyes.

But she quickly interposed her fan.

"I am masked, monsieur," she said.

I ignored the reproof. "That," said I, "is my supreme regret."

"_Merci, mon ami_," she said. "You may kiss my hand when you leave me."

"Only your hand?" I asked.

"Not even that, now," she retorted--then turned and leaned against the hedge.

Two men were coming down the path toward us.

"Here are the other twin Knaves," she said.

And it was true enough--they were as alike as Moore and myself; only, they wore white satin small clothes and powdered perukes. They were in earnest conversation, but broke off as they neared us.

"_Parbleu_!" exclaimed the man with us. "There seems to be a plague of twins to-night."

One of the White Masques made as though to halt, but the other whispered something and tried to draw him on.

Our fellow laughed irritatingly, and waved his hand toward Moore and me.

"We've got a pair of Knaves here, also," he bantered; "perchance, the four of you are from the same pack."

The White Masque turned quickly. "Then it would be a pack, monsieur, in which you would be about equal to the deuce," he said.

"Or the joker," said the other, as they moved away, "which, in a gentleman's game, has no place."

Our man made a quick step toward them; but Moore caught him sharply by the shoulder.

"Let them go," he said curtly.

The other hesitated--then shrugged his shoulders.

"For the present be it, then," he said.

"And, look you, sir," Moore went on; "I do not know you, but, if you will take my poor advice, you will let it be for the future, too." He offered his arm to his companion. "Mademoiselle, shall we continue the stroll?"

"What a queer speech," said my Masque, "one might almost fancy they were of royal rank."

"The King, possibly," I suggested.

"Nonsense, monsieur; you know perfectly well His Majesty is not in Dornlitz."

"The Duke of Lotzen and the American Archduke, then."

She laughed. "Very likely; very likely, indeed!"

"Mademoiselle is pleased to ridicule."

"And monsieur is pleased to affect ignorance."

"Of what?" I asked.

"When did your Knaveship come to Dornlitz?"

"Very recently."

"You must be a very stupid--diplomat."

"I am," I agreed.

"Do you know the 'American Archduke,' as you call him?"

"Very slightly," said I.

"Doubtless you would rather know his wife," she said navely.

"Then you think he is married?" I asked.