club in your hands! And Hercules should be
spinning at your feet--a man in a black coat and a high collar, with a
distaff! It is an absurd idea."

"You should not call my ideas absurd and tiresome. It is not civil."

"I thought it had been mine," observed Gouache.

"Not at all. I thought of it--it was quite original."

Gouache laughed a little and looked at Orsino as though asking his
opinion.

"Madame is right," said the latter. "She suggested the whole idea--by
having yellow eyes."

"You see, Gouache. I told you so. The Prince takes my view. What will
you do?"

"Whatever you command--"

"But I do not want to be ridiculous--"

"I do not see--"

"And yet I must have the tiger."

"I am ready."

"Doubtless--but you must think of another subject, with a tiger in it."

"Nothing easier. Noble Roman damsel--Colosseum--tiger about to
spring--rose--"

"Just heaven! What an old story! Besides, I have not the type."

"The 'Mysteries of Dionysus,'" suggested Gouache. "Thyrsus, leopard's
skin--"

"A Bacchante! Fie, Monsieur--and then, the leopard, when we only have a
tiger."

"Indian princess interviewed by a man-eater--jungle--new moon--tropical
vegetation--"

"You can think of nothing but subjects for a dark type," said Madame
d'Aragona impatiently.

"The fact is, in countries where the tiger walks abroad, the women are
generally brunettes."

"I hate facts. You who are enthusiastic, can you not help us?" She
turned to Orsino.

"Am I enthusiastic?"

"Yes, I am sure of it. Think of something."

Orsino was not pleased. He would have preferred to be thought cold and
impassive.

"What can I say? The first idea was the best. Get a lion instead of a
tiger--nothing is simpler."

"For my part I prefer the damask cloak and the original picture," said
Gouache with decision. "All this mythology is too complicated--too
Pompeian--how shall I say? Besides there is no distinct allusion. A
Hercules on a bracket--anybody may have that. If you were the Marchessa
di San Giacinto, for instance--oh, then everyone would laugh."

"Why? What is that?"

"She married my cousin," said Orsino. "He is an enormous giant, and they
say that she has tamed him."

"Ah no! That would not do. Something else, please."

Orsino involuntarily thought of a sphynx as he looked at the massive
brow, the yellow, sleepy eyes, and the heavy mouth. He wondered how the
late Aranjuez had lived and what death he had died.

He offered the