nderland,
back in the great entrance hail. There, starting at every sound, lest
a returning family party should catch me "lurking," I awaited the Boy.

We left, finally, showering francs and compliments; but I crawled out
a decrepid wreck, and refused pitilessly to do more than view the
exterior of other chateaux. It was evening when we saw our white hotel
once more, and a haze of starlight dusted the sky and all the blue
distance with silver powder.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XIV

The Path of the Moon

"And then they came to the turnstile of night."
--RUDYARD KIPLING.

This was to be our last night at Aosta, perhaps our last night
together, for the Boy's plans kept his name company in some secret
"hidie hole" of his mind. As, for the third time, we dined on the
loggia, before the rising of the moon, we drifted into talk of
intimate things. It was I who began it. I harked back to the broken
conversation which had first made us friends, and to his chance sketch
of Helen Blantock and her type. In that connection, I ventured to
bring up the subject of his sister.

"What you said about her disillusionment interested me very much," I
told him. "You see, I've just come through an experience something
like it myself, do you mind talking about her?"

"Not in this place--and this mood--and to you," he answered. "But
first--what disillusioned you?"

"Disappointment in someone I cared for,--and believed in."

"It was the same with--my sister."

"Poor Princess."

"Yes, poor Princess. Was it--a man friend who disappointed you?"

"A woman. The old story. As a matter of fact, she threw me over
because another fellow had a lot more money than I."

"Horrid creature."

"Oh, just an ordinary, conventional, well brought up girl. Now you see
I have as much right to a grudge against women, as your sister the
Princess has against men."

"But I don't believe the girl _could_ have been as cruel to you, as
this man I'm thinking of was to--her. They'd known each other for
years, since childhood. He used to call her his 'little sweetheart'
when she was ten and he was fifteen. How was she to dream that even
when he was a boy, he didn't really like her better than other little
girls, that already he was making calculations about her money? She
thought he was different from the others, that _he_ cared for herself.
They were engaged, the bridesmaids asked, the trousseau ready, the
invit