ng: yet your Prince looked as much at my
picture as at hers, quite as much; and the artist could have taken no
more pains with me if I had been a queen. So you see what other people
think. And as it happens, I _do_ know a great deal about this Prince."

"Nothing against him, then, I am sure," persisted Luciola, though
somewhat impressed. "Monsieur le Cure loves him, which alone proves that
he is good."

"Does Monsieur le Cure consider it good to gamble at Monte Carlo?"
inquired Nathalie, with assumed meekness.

"Of course not. Prince Giovanni would not stoop to such a pursuit."

"Oh, would he not? That is all you know of the world, here on your
mountain, dear aunt. Me, I hear everything that goes on, though I live
in the house of a cleric. Madame's cousin knows well your Prince, who,
it is true, did not gamble at first, and seemed to scorn the Casino, so
I heard from Monsieur Carleton while I poured the tea. But for some
reason he has taken to play, the Prince. He is always in the Casino. He
has refused to live in the villa at Cap Martin with his brother and
sister-in-law, who have now arrived, because he hates to be too far from
the Casino, though perhaps they may not know why. Monsieur Carleton has
told Madame that not once have they been inside its doors, or shown
themselves at any Monte Carlo restaurant. Oh, your Prince is a wild
gambler, aunt, and loses much money, which is a silly way of amusing
one's self, in my opinion. And that is why I say he is not so good as
you and Monsieur le Cure think him, you who are so innocent."

"I do not believe one word of your foolish gossip," was the only
satisfaction Nathalie got from Luciola. But when the girl had gone, the
little old woman was in such haste to retell the tale to the cure, that
she did not even throw a glance at Nathalie. If she had, she might have
seen the Storm-cloud brightening when, quite by accident, she was met by
Achille Gonzales within a few yards of the cure's door.

Old as she was, Luciola had an excellent memory for anything that
interested her, though she was capable of forgetting what was best
forgotten in a household, such as the breaking of a dish, or the reason
why the cat had been left out of doors all night in the rain. She
repeated what she had heard from her niece, almost word for word,
wandering a little sometimes from the straight path of the narrative
into side tracks, such as the anecdote of the artist who took as much
pains with N