Mademoiselle d'Essolde started and, then, drew a bit back.

"Never, indeed, until I had searched the Garden," I retorted. Then I bowed to Mademoiselle d'Essolde as the Marquise presented her. I could see she was very much embarra.s.sed, so I tried to rea.s.sure her by being extremely cordial.

The Marquise wanted to show Courtney the bridge and the lake, and, when we pa.s.sed the place where Moore and I had met the Queens--as I had styled them--Mademoiselle d'Essolde found her opportunity and whispered:

"Will Your Royal Highness ever forgive me?"

"On one condition," I said.

"It's granted--name it."

"That you be nice to him who sits beside you at supper, to-night."

She looked at me a moment--masks are very annoying when one wants to see the face.

"That will be an easy penance," she said--and I understood she had been told who that man was to be.

I bent toward her. "Let him know it, then," I said earnestly.

"Your Highness likes him?" she asked.

"I do more than like him," I said.

She threw a quick glance up at me.

"Maybe I do, too," she laughed.

"Good," said I; then began to speak of something else. There is just as proper a point to quit a subject as to start it.

The gra.s.s on the bank of the lake was quite dry and Lady Helen suggested that we sit down.

"This reminds me of a garden in Florence," she said. "Someone might tell us a story from Boccaccio."

The Marquise held up her hands in affected horror.

"Helen! Helen! You're positively shocking," she said.

"Lady Helen evidently believes in living up to our costumes," I ventured.

"Why not?" she laughed, "since the masks hide our faces?"

"Very good, my dear," said Lady Vierle, "you tell the first story; we will take our cue from you."

Lady Helen removed her mask. "Then, that is your first cue," she said.

"I breathe easier," Mademoiselle d'Essolde remarked.

"We all do," said I--then, suddenly, replaced mine and arose.

"Indulge me for a moment," I said, and sauntered over to the path a little distance away; nor answered the chaffing that was flung after me. I had seen a woman in gypsy dress and a cavalier in white coming slowly down the walk. I did not doubt it was Mrs. Spencer and Lotzen, and I intended to let them know they were recognized.

As we neared each other, I halted and stared at them with the most obvious deliberation. The gypsy made some remark to her companion, to which he nodded. I had little notion they would address me; and, certainly, none that they would stop. But, there (though whether it was pure bravado or because my att.i.tude was particularly irritating, I know not), Lotzen gave me another surprise.

He paused in front of me and looked me over from head to foot.

"Monsieur seems interested," he said, making no effort to disguise his tones.

I made no answer.

"And I hope monsieur will pardon me if I tell him his manners are atrocious," he went on.

Again, no answer.

"Though, of course, no one could ever expect monsieur to understand why," he continued.

Of a sudden, it dawned on my slow brain that Lotzen did not know whether it was Moore or I that confronted him, and he wanted to hear my voice. I saw no utility in obliging him; so, I stood impa.s.sive, staring calmly at them.

Lotzen turned to his companion.

"Speak to him, mademoiselle," he said; "perchance the dulcet tones of Beauty may move the Beast to speech."

I smiled at him addressing her as "mademoiselle."

She shook her head. "Methinks it's Balaam not Beauty you need."

He laughed. "Even that does not stir him--the fellow must be deaf."

"Try signs on him." she suggested.

"Good! I'll sign to him we want to see his face."

"How, pray?"

"By pulling off his mask," he answered--and put out his hand, as though to do it. With his fingers almost on it, he paused.

I stood quite still. I felt perfectly sure he would not touch me; but, if he did, I intended to knock him down. And I was not mistaken.

After a moment, he dropped his arm.

The woman laughed. "Your nerve failed--his didn't," she said dryly.

"Not at all, mademoiselle. I thought of a better way.--Observe."

He slowly drew the long narrow-bladed sword, that went with his costume, and, taking the point in his left hand, bowed over it in mock courtesy.

"Will monsieur have the extreme kindness to remove his mask," he said.

I admit I was a bit astonished. Surely, this was rushing things with a vengeance--to deliberately raise a situation that meant either a fight or a complete back-down by one of us. And, as he would scarcely imagine I would do the latter, he must have intended to force a duel.

There might have been another reason, a.s.suming that he was interested only in my ident.i.ty:--this procedure would have told him; for Moore would not have dared draw sword on the Heir Presumptive. But I have never thought such was his idea; for he must have been very well satisfied, by this time, that none but an equal in rank would have acted so toward him.