d; I took that chance and won."

"I do not understand you at all." She was tired.

"As I said, I had a definite purpose. An imposture like this is a prison
offense. I asked you to marry me. I do so again."

"You are hiding a threat!" The mental chaos cleared and left her thought
keen and cold.

"I shall hide it no longer. Marry me, or I shall disclose the imposture
to the police."

"Oh!" She shot him a glance, insolent and piercing. Then she laughed,
but neither hysterically nor mirthfully. It was the laughter of one in
deadly anger. "I had believed you to be a man of some reason, Mr. Worth.
Do you suppose, even had I entertained some sentiment toward you, that
it would survive a circumstance like this?"

"I am waiting for your answer."

"You shall have it. Why, this is scarcely on the level with cheap
melodrama. Threats? How short-sighted you have been! Did you dream that
any woman could be won in this absurd fashion? You thought nothing of
your companions, either, or the trouble you were bringing about their
heads."

"Yes or no?" His voice was not so full of assurance as it had been.

"No!"

"Take care!" advancing.

"I am perfectly capable of taking care. And heed what I have to say to
you, Mr. Worth. You will leave this villa at once; and if you do not go
quietly, I shall order the servants to put you forth. That is my
answer."

"You speak as though you were the princess," he snarled.

"Till Thursday morning I _am_!" La Signorina replied proudly.

"I shall inform the police."

"Do so. Now, as there is nothing more to be said, be gone!"

He saw that he had thrown and lost; and a man who loses his last throw
is generally desperate. Regardless of consequences, he seized her
roughly in his arms. She struck him across the eyes with full strength,
and she was no weakling. He gasped in pain and released her.

"If I were a man," she said quietly, but with lightning in her eyes,
"you should die for that!" She left him.

Worth, a hundred varied emotions rocking him, stared after her till she
was no longer in sight. There were tears in his eyes and a ringing in
his head. Fool! To play this kind of game against that kind of woman!
Fool, fool! He had written the end himself. It was all over. He went to
his room, got together his things, found a cart, and drove secretly into
Florence.

On the night of the ball there was a brilliant moon. Rosy Chinese
lanterns stretched from tree to tree. The little god in