y man,
thin and weazened, with no blood in him, and a woolen nightcap which is
perhaps red. I shall not tell you whether I go of my own wish or because
you wish it. But I need soberly to tell you this: secrecy is as
necessary for me as for you. The favor may mean as much on one side as
on the other--I shall not tell you why. But we shall play fair until,
as you say, perhaps to-morrow. After that--"

"After that, on guard!"

"Very well, on guard! Suppose I do not like this other woman?"

"Madam, you could not help it. All the world loves her."

"Do you?"

"With my life."

"How devoted! Very well, _on guard_, then!"

She took up the Indian bauble, turning to examine it at the nearest
candle sconce, even as I thrust the dainty little slipper of white satin
again into the pocket of my coat. I was uncomfortable. I wished this
talk of Elisabeth had not come up. I liked very little to leave
Elisabeth's property in another's hands. Dissatisfied, I turned from the
table, not noticing for more than an instant a little crumpled roll of
paper which, as I was vaguely conscious, now appeared on its smooth
marquetry top.

"But see," she said; "you are just like a man, after all, and an
unmarried man at that! I can not go through the streets in this costume.
Excuse me for a moment."

She was off on the instant into the alcove where the great amber-covered
bed stood. She drew the curtains. I heard her humming to herself as she
passed to and fro, saw the flare of a light as it rose beyond. Once or
twice she thrust a laughing face between the curtains, held tight
together with her hands, as she asked me some question, mocking me,
still amused--yet still, as I thought, more enigmatic than before.

"Madam," I said at last, "I would I might dwell here for ever, but--you
are slow! The night passes. Come. My master will be waiting. He is ill;
I fear he can not sleep. I know how intent he is on meeting you. I beg
you to oblige an old, a dying man!"

"And you, Monsieur," she mocked at me from beyond the curtain, "are
intent only on getting rid of me. Are you not adventurer enough to
forget that other woman for one night?"

In her hands--those of a mysterious foreign woman--I had placed this
little trinket which I had got among the western tribes for Elisabeth--a
woman of my own people--the woman to whom my pledge had been given, not
for return on any morrow. I made no answer, excepting to walk up and
down the floor.

At last sh