s taught in the schoolroom that two
and two make four."

"Oh, one can see that you've enjoyed a liberal education," he apprised
her. "But where were you taught to jump to conclusions? You do it with a
grace, an assurance. I too have heard that two and two make four; but
first you must catch your two and two. Really, as if there couldn't be
more than one Chinese costume knocking about Vienna, during carnival
week! Dear, good, sweet lady, it's of all disguises the disguise they're
driving hardest, this particular season. And then to build up an
elaborate theory of identities upon the mere chance resemblance of a
pair of photographs! Photographs indeed! Photographs don't give the
complexion. Say that your Invisible Prince is dark, what's to prevent
your literary man from being fair or sandy? Or _vice versa_? And then,
how is a little German Polish princeling to write poems and things in
English? No, no, no; your reasoning hasn't a leg to stand on."

"Oh, I don't mind its not having legs," she laughed, "so long as it
convinces me. As for writing poems and things in English, you yourself
said that everybody is more or less English, in these days. German
princes are especially so. They all learn English, as a second
mother-tongue. You see, like Circassian beauties, they are mostly bred
up for the marriage market; and nothing is a greater help towards a good
sound remunerative English marriage, than a knowledge of the language.
However, don't be frightened. I must take it for granted that Victor
Field would prefer not to let the world know who he is. I happen to have
discovered his secret. He may trust to my discretion."

"You still persist in imagining that I'm Victor Field?" he murmured
sadly.

"I should have to be extremely simple-minded," she announced, "to
imagine anything else. You wouldn't be a male human being if you had sat
here for half an hour patiently talking about another man."

"Your argument," said he, "with a meretricious air of subtlety, is
facile and superficial. I thank you for teaching me that word. I'd sit
here till doomsday talking about my worst enemy, for the pleasure of
talking with you."

"Perhaps we have been talking of your worst enemy. Whom do the moralists
pretend a man's worst enemy is wont to be?" she asked.

"I wish you would tell me the name of the person the moralists would
consider _your_ worst enemy," he replied.

"I'll tell you directly, as I said before, if you'll own up," she