ice, but his laugh was even more musical.

"Daphne pursued by Apollo," he commenced, waving his hand towards the
panel in face of her. "Be pleased to observe the lady sinking into the
bush; an effect which the ingenious painter has stolen from no less a
masterpiece than the Buisson Ardent' of Nicholas Froment."

The General fumbled for the ribbon of his gold eye-glass. M. Raoul
moved towards the next panel, and Dorothea followed him.

"Perseus entering the Garden of the Hesperides."

The painting, though slapdash, was astonishingly clever; and in this,
as in other panels, no trace of the artist's hurry appeared in the
reposeful design. Coiled about the foot of the tree, the dragon Ladon
blinked an eye lazily at three maidens pacing hand in hand in the
dance, over-hung with dark boughs and golden fruit. Behind them
Perseus, with naked sword, halted in admiration, half issuing from a
thicket over which stretched a distant bright line of sea and white
cliff.

"You like it?" he asked. "But it is not quite finished yet, and
Mademoiselle, if she is frank, will say that it wants something."

His voice held a challenge.

"I am sure, sir, I could not guess, even if I possessed--"

"A board, for example?"

"A board?"

She was completely puzzled.

He glanced at her sideways, turned to the panel, and with his
forefingers traced the outline of a square upon it, against the tree.

"Restaurant pour les Aspirants," he announced.

He said it quietly, over his shoulder. The sudden challenge, her sudden
discovery that he knew, made Dorothea gasp. She had not the smallest
notion how to answer him, or even what kind of answer he expected, and
stood dumb, gazing at his back. A workman, passing, apologised for
having brushed her skirt with the step-ladder he carried. She stammered
some words of pardon. And just then, to her relief, her brother
Endymion's voice rang out from the doorway:

"Ah, there you are. Well, I declare!" He looked around him. "A
Paradise, a perfect Paradise! Indeed, General, your nation has its
revenge of us in the arts. You build a temple for us, and on Wednesday
I hear you are to provide the music. Tum-tum, ta-ta-ta . . ." He hummed
a few bars of Gluck's "Paride ed Elenna," and paused, with the gesture
of one holding a fiddle, on the verge of a reminiscence. "There was a
time--but I no longer compete. And to whom, General, are we indebted
for this--ah--treat?"

General Rochambeau indicated young Raoul