ay with her, why, in the
name of all that was romantic--could it not have occurred by moonlight?
Why, when he caught the beast, could it not have been by the bridle
instead of the tail? And above all, why could she not have fallen into
his arms, instead of on top of him?

The stage scenery was set for romance, but from the moment the curtain
rose the play had persisted in being farce. However, farce or romance, it
was all one to him so long as he could play leading-man; what he objected
to was the minor part. The fact was clear that sash and earrings could
never compete with uniform and sword and the Italian language. His mind
was made up; he would withdraw tonight before he was found out, and
leave Valedolmo tomorrow morning by the early boat. Miss Constance Wilder
should never have the satisfaction of knowing the truth.

He was engaged in framing a dignified speech to Mr. Wilder--thanking him
for his generosity, but declining to accept a reward for what had been
merely a matter of duty--when his reflections were cut short by the sound
of footsteps on the stairs. They were by no means noiseless footsteps;
there were good strong nails all over the bottom of Constance's shoes.
The next moment she appeared in the doorway. Her eyes were centered on
the view; she looked entirely over Tony. It was not until he rose to his
feet that she realized his presence with a start.

"Dear me, is that you, Tony? You frightened me! Don't get up; I know you
must be tired." This with a sweetly solicitous smile.

Tony smiled too and resumed his seat; it was the first time since morning
that she had condescended to consider his feelings. She sauntered over
to the opposite side and stood with her back to him examining the view.
Tony turned his back and affected to be engaged with the view in the
other direction; he too could play at indifference.

Constance finished with her view first, and crossing over, she seated
herself in the deep embrasure of a window close beside Tony's parapet. He
rose again at her approach, but there was no eagerness in the motion; it
was merely the necessary deference of a donkey-driver toward his
employer.

"Oh, sit down," she insisted, "I want to talk to you."

[Illustration: "She seated herself in the deep embrasure of a window
close beside Tony's parapet"]

He opened his eyes with a show of surprise; his hurt feelings insisted
that all the advances should be on her part. Constance seemed in no hurry
to