d hate you.'

'You are giving me another reason to ask for a longer leave of absence,'
said he, bowing courteously.

'And this leave of yours--how long does it last?'

'I am afraid to own to myself. Wednesday fortnight is the end of it; that
is, it gives me four days after that to reach Vienna.'

'And presenting yourself in humble guise before your colonel, to say, "_Ich
melde mich gehorsamst_."'

'Not exactly that--but something like it.'

'I'll be the Herr Oberst Lieutenant,' said she, laughing; 'so come forward
now and clap your heels together, and let us hear how you utter your few
syllables in true abject fashion. I'll sit here, and receive you.' As she
spoke, she threw herself into an arm-chair, and assuming a look of intense
hauteur and defiance, affected to stroke an imaginary moustache with one
hand, while with the other she waved a haughty gesture of welcome.

'I have outstayed my leave,' muttered Gorman, in a tremulous tone. 'I hope
my colonel, with that bland mercy which characterises him, will forgive my
fault, and let me ask his pardon.' And with this, he knelt down on one knee
before her, and kissed her hand.

'What liberties are these, sir?' cried she, so angrily, that it was not
easy to say whether the anger was not real.

'It is the latest rule introduced into our service,' said he, with mock
humility.

'Is that a comedy they are acting yonder,' said Walpole, 'or is it a
proverb?'

'Whatever the drama,' replied Kate coldly, 'I don't think they want a
public.'

'You may go back to your duty, Herr Lieutenant,' said Nina proudly, and
with a significant glance towards Kate. 'Indeed, I suspect you have been
rather neglecting it of late.' And with this she sailed majestically away
towards the end of the room.

'I wish I could provoke even that much of jealousy from the other,'
muttered Gorman to himself, as he bit his lip in passion. And certainly, if
a look and manner of calm unconcern meant anything, there was little that
seemed less likely.

'I am glad you are going to the piano, Nina,' said Kate. 'Mr. Walpole has
been asking me by what artifice you could be induced to sing something of
Mendelssohn.'

'I am going to sing an Irish ballad for that Austrian patriot, who, like
his national poet, thinks "Ireland a beautiful country to live out of."'
Though a haughty toss of her head accompanied these words, there was a
glance in her eye towards Gorman that plainly invited a renewal of their