t shots succeeded in landing their trophies on this
awning, where they were speedily captured and drawn in by the occupants
of the next flat, an ogre of an old woman and her hook-nosed daughter,
who wore an ugly green dress and was otherwise unattractive.

The entire Madden party became interested and stood looking on with
the most encouraging smiles. The very last bouquet was vainly thrown,
however, and gathered in by the ogre, when Bero suddenly appeared, a
little behind the party in the window. The flowers in his hand were of
the same specimens as those he had given Mae the day before, although
different in arrangement. He lifted the bouquet quickly to his lips,
so quickly that perhaps only Mae understood the motion, and flung it
lightly forward. Mae leaned over the balcony, reaching out her eager
hands, and caught it in her very finger tips. The party above bowed and
applauded, as she raised the flowers triumphantly to her face.

So the second day of the Carnival was a success, till they turned their
backs on the Corso. In the carriage Mrs. Jerrold spoke gently but firmly
to Mae. "Be a little more careful, dear; don't let your spirits carry
you quite away during these mad days." Mae smiled, but was silent.

"What a strangely beautiful girl that was in the gallery opposite,"
Edith said, a moment later. "I wonder if she is engaged to that superb
man; I fancied I had seen him before. Why, Mae, what in the world are
you blushing at?" For Mae's face was scarlet. "Why, nothing," replied
Mae, redder yet; "nothing at all. What do you mean?"

The same thought occurred to Edith and Albert. The officer was Mae's
chance acquaintance. They both looked grave, and Albert remarked: "It is
as well to be careful before getting up too sudden an acquaintance with
your Italian girl. Take care of your eyes."

"Has it come to this?" cried Mae, half jestingly, half bitterly. "Are
nor my very eyes my own? I shall feel, Albert, as if you were trying to
bind me in that chain you threatened," and Mae started: her fingers had
felt another scrap of paper among the flowers, but she did not drop it
from the carriage, as her first impulse was; she held it tight and close
in her warm right hand until she was fairly at home and safe in her own
room. Then she opened and read in an Italian hand, "To my little Queen
of the Carnival."

Could he have written that as he stood by the wonderful veiled lady,
with her white mysterious beauty, with the pur