hour earlier she had found John dull
and flat by comparison with Europeans. Now suddenly they were effeminate
dandies, and John alone was a real man.

But the exhilaration of jumping brought her to a more equable frame of
mind, and at the first check she and the Prince Allegro were in the
lead. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes bright from the long gallop.

They had stopped on a knoll out on the Campagna, and Nina remained apart
from the other hunters, walking her horse slowly, while Allegro went
over to the carriage to get a handkerchief for her from the Princess
Sansevero. She drew in deep breaths of the fresh air, as she gazed out
over the rolling hills to the snowclad tops of the Albanian mountains
glistening in the sunshine.

Then suddenly a deep, oily voice jarred through her wandering thoughts.
"You are very pensive!" exclaimed the Duke Scorpa, appearing beside her.

Nina started violently, for, besides his unexpected appearance, there
was something in this man's personality that always sent a shudder
through her.

"The Marchese di Valdo has been telling me that I am very gay," she
answered, not so much to give the duke the information as to contradict
him.

"Then I am doubly sad, since you are gay with others, and absent-minded
when I come." A lurking familiarity in his smile made Nina wince. He
ranged his horse so close that his boots brushed against hers, and she
pulled aside quickly; he did not move close again, but he checked her
attempt to pass him, keeping between her and the other riders.

"Why are you so cruel?" he murmured. "Diana never had so many votaries
as Venus."

"I am not interested in mythology," said Nina, her heart fluttering with
fright. "Please allow me to pass--I want to join my uncle."

"Sweet, pale little Diana,"--he leaned over in his saddle and purred the
words at her--"where mythology failed was in not marrying Diana to Mars.
Exactly as--you are going to marry me!"

"I will not! I told you before I would not! Let me pass!" She pulled the
reins so taut that her horse reared as she urged him forward, but again
the duke ranged his horse close beside her, heading off her attempt to
get past.

"A woman's 'won't' as often means she will," he answered deliberately.
"It is when she says she is not certain that her irrevocable decision is
made."

"I hate you, I utterly hate you!" cried Nina, her anger getting the
better of her fear.

The duke laughed maliciously. "I had scarcel