that? I!"

"But, my dear fellow, I thought I heard you distinctly say that."

"No; I said that I had made a mis-entry once, a bagatelle; if you want
to know, a false date on a letter, a single stroke of the pen
wrong--that was my whole crime. No, God be praised, I can tell right
from wrong yet a while. How would it fare with me if I were, into the
bargain, to sully my honour? It is simply my sense of honour that keeps
me afloat now. But it is strong enough too; at least, it has kept me up
to date."

I threw back my head, turned away from "Missy," and looked down the
street. My eyes rested on a red dress that came towards us; on a woman
at a man's side. If I had not had this conversation with "Missy," I
would not have been hurt by his coarse suspicion, and I would not have
given this toss of my head, as I turned away in offence; and so perhaps
this red dress would have passed me without my having noticed it. And
at bottom what did it concern me? What was it to me if it were the
dress of the Hon. Miss Nagel, the lady-in-waiting? "Missy" stood and
talked, and tried to make good his mistake again. I did not listen to
him at all; I stood the whole time and stared at the red dress that was
coming nearer up the street, and a stir thrilled through my breast, a
gliding delicate dart. I whispered in thought without moving my lips:

"Ylajali!"

Now "Missy" turned round also and noticed the two--the lady and the man
with her,--raised his hat to them, and followed them with his eyes. I
did not raise my hat, or perhaps I did unconsciously. The red dress
glided up Carl Johann, and disappeared.

"Who was it was with her?" asked "Missy."

"The Duke, didn't you see? The so-called 'Duke.' Did you know the lady?"

"Yes, in a sort of way. Didn't you know her?"

"No," I replied.

"It appears to me you saluted profoundly enough."

"Did I?"

"Ha, ha! perhaps you didn't," said "Missy." "Well, that is odd. Why, it
was only at you she looked, too, the whole time."

"When did you get to know her?" I asked. He did not really know her. It
dated from an evening in autumn. It was late; they were three jovial
souls together, they came out late from the Grand, and met this being
going along alone past Cammermeyer's, and they addressed her. At first
she answered rebuffingly; but one of the jovial spirits, a man who
neither feared fire nor water, asked her right to her face if he might
not have the civilized enjoyment of accompanying her h