eserted and even its
shade was unpleasantly warm.

"Shall I see you this afternoon?" Von Ibn asked as they went leisurely
through the heat.

"Perhaps."

"I wish it was after the _dejeuner_," he said, looking out upon the lake
and the crest of the mountain beyond.

She wondered if she had better say "Why," or not, and finally decided to
say it. He brought his eyes back from the Rigi and looked at her.

"Because I have the habit of always sleeping after _dejeuner_," he
explained.

They crossed to the hotel. It was late, and more people were coming down
in the lifts than going up.

"Are you tired?" he asked.

"Yes, I think that I am--a little."

"I advise you to sleep too," he said gravely.

"I always do."

"So," he cried triumphantly, "you see I say the truth when I say that we
are very _sympathique_!"

Rosina looked up at him and her eyes danced; he returned the look with a
responsive glow in his own big pupils.

"I am so glad we meet," he exclaimed impulsively.

She stepped out of the lift and turned to dismiss him.

"And you?" he asked, bowing above her hand.

"I'm glad too," she said, and her tone was most sincere.

Chapter Three

Late in the afternoon of the same day Ottillie, coming in to wake her
mistress from a nap which the morning's long walk had resulted in
stretching to a most unusual duration, brought with her a great bunch of
those luxuriantly double violets which brim over with perfume and
beauty. There was also a note, very short, and couched in a flawless
French.

If one must be roused out of a delicious sleep on a warm June day,
surely violets, and such a note as accompanied these particular violets,
were the least disagreeable means ever invented for accomplishing that
end. Rosina's frown for Ottillie changed into a smile for some one else,
and she rose from among her pillows and submitted to her toilet with a
good grace. Ottillie, who was French enough and experienced enough never
to need to be told things, divined what the note must have contained the
second time that she saw her mistress glance at the clock, and so
accelerated her ordinary rate of movement that even the gown of lace
which appeared to fasten nowhere, was fastened everywhere ere the town
bells rang five.

A few minutes after, a _garcon_ in the hotel livery brought up a card,
and, Continental etiquette made it quite _en regle_ for Monsieur von Ibn
to be ushered into the dainty little salon which the S