r into the open air. Instead of sewing,
she was occupied in furbishing up some old stage jewelry, and her
visitor, stretched on an iron bench, calmly puffed a cigar. From his
manner, one would imagine him master rather than guest; but that
Mademoiselle Milan and a female servant were the sole occupants there is
not a doubt.

With the utmost nonchalance, he had ordered a pillow, and, his ambrosial
locks buried in its soft depths and his feet raised high above his head,
he lounged a modern Apollo, scrutinizing with supercilious indifference
the lady's work. If the cigar-ashes at his side were a criterion, he had
been lying there for hours; and if the nervous movements of Mademoiselle
were significant, he had been lying there an hour too long. For some
minutes the silence was broken only by the jingle of the gaudy
ornaments, and then the man exclaimed, "But, _ma chere_ Adrienne, I am
short--deuced short. Delay is ruin. How am I to live?"

"Work," said the lady, curtly.

"There you are again, with your cursed woman's wisdom! What are you here
_for_? What am _I_ here for?"

Mademoiselle answered, with a shrug, "Judging from your position, I
would say, to enjoy your ease; from your language, to annoy me."

He raised himself to a sitting posture. "Adrienne Milan, do you take me
for an idiot?"

"Edgar Fay, you are insulting."

"Prima donnas of the _Alcasar_ are not usually so sensitive," broke out
the visitor, with a laugh.

The woman sprang to her feet, and in the haste overturned the table with
its glittering baubles.

"Go! go!" she fiercely exclaimed. "The compact between you and me is
sacred. Another word, and I reveal all."

White as any ghost, he started up, and, without uttering a sound, slunk
away.

Trembling with rage and mortification, Mademoiselle Milan sunk into a
seat; but hers was not a nature to dwell long on trouble. With a woman's
spirit of order, she commenced picking up the finery scattered around
her, and putting it away. Among other things was a box of quartz
diamonds, which, being small, flew in all directions. All within view
were collected, and she turned to go.

"There are several lying near that flower-pot in the corner."

The lady looked up. Standing on a chair on the other side, and leaning
lazily over the wall, was Armand Dupleisis.

CHAPTER III.

"Has Flora proved more attractive than Thalia?"

Armand Dupleisis, long since become acquainted, stood examining a
bouquet of