eyes, but he guessed them
blue, as he admired the sparkle of them under the fine, dark line of
eyebrows.

He could not have told you why, but he was conscious that it aggrieved
him to find her so intimate with this pretty young fellow, who was
partly clad, as it appeared, in the cast-offs of a nobleman. He could
not guess her station, but the speech that reached him was cultured in
tone and word. He strained to listen.

"I shall know no peace, Leandre, until we are safely wedded," she was
saying. "Not until then shall I count myself beyond his reach. And yet
if we marry without his consent, we but make trouble for ourselves, and
of gaining his consent I almost despair."

Evidently, thought Andre-Louis, her father was a man of sense, who saw
through the shabby finery of M. Leandre, and was not to be dazzled by
cheap paste buckles.

"My dear Climene," the young man was answering her, standing squarely
before her, and holding both her hands, "you are wrong to despond. If I
do not reveal to you all the stratagem that I have prepared to win the
consent of your unnatural parent, it is because I am loath to rob you of
the pleasure of the surprise that is in store. But place your faith in
me, and in that ingenious friend of whom I have spoken, and who should
be here at any moment."

The stilted ass! Had he learnt that speech by heart in advance, or was
he by nature a pedantic idiot who expressed himself in this set and
formal manner? How came so sweet a blossom to waste her perfumes on such
a prig? And what a ridiculous name the creature owned!

Thus Andre-Louis to himself from his observatory. Meanwhile, she was
speaking.

"That is what my heart desires, Leandre, but I am beset by fears lest
your stratagem should be too late. I am to marry this horrible Marquis
of Sbrufadelli this very day. He arrives by noon. He comes to sign the
contract--to make me the Marchioness of Sbrufadelli. Oh!" It was a cry of
pain from that tender young heart. "The very name burns my lips. If it
were mine I could never utter it--never! The man is so detestable. Save
me, Leandre. Save me! You are my only hope."

Andre-Louis was conscious of a pang of disappointment. She failed to
soar to the heights he had expected of her. She was evidently infected
by the stilted manner of her ridiculous lover. There was an atrocious
lack of sincerity about her words. They touched his mind, but left his
heart unmoved. Perhaps this was because of his antip