e
of the little Gaeta, following the song, jarred on my ears as she
praised the Boy, and pleaded for more.

"I can't sing again to-night," said he. "I'm sorry, but I can sing
only when I feel in the mood."

"But you will come with Lord Lane, and stay at my villa, which I have
taken at Aix--yes, if only for a few days? The Baron and Baronessa
will be with me, too. You are going that way. Lord Lane has told me.
Will you come?"

"Is he coming?"

"Lord Lane, tell him that you are."

"You are very good, Contessa----"

"There! You hear, it is settled."

"If--Lord Lane makes you a visit, I will also, as you are kind enough
to want me."

Afterwards, when we had bidden the Contessa and her guardian dragons
good-night, and it was arranged that we were to stay over to-morrow,
on account of the lost bag, I said to the Boy on the way upstairs,
"You've made a conquest of the Contessa."

He blushed furiously, looked angry, and then burst out laughing. "Are
you jealous?" he asked.

"I ought to be."

"But are you?"

"I haven't had time to analyse my emotions. Why did you never tell me
you sang?"

"I wasn't ready--till to-night. Now--I sang for you."

"I thought it was for the Contessa."

"Did you? Well"--with sudden crossness--"you may go on thinking so, if
you like. Can she sing?"

"Rather well."

"As--better than I can?"

"You must judge for yourself when you hear her."

"You might tell me. But no! I don't want you to, now. It's spoiled.
Good-night."

"Good-night. Dream of your conquest."

"Probably she's only trying to--to bring you to the point, by being
nice to me. I wonder if you care?"

I would not give the little wretch any satisfaction. I merely
laughed, and an odd blue light flashed in his eyes. He was making up
his mind to something, for the life of me I could not tell what.

The Contessa and her satellites should have gone on to Chamounix next
day, but Gaeta frankly announced her intention of waiting, so that we
might make the journey together. They were driving over the Tete
Noire, and we would go afoot, to be sure; still, said she, we could
keep more or less together, exchanging impressions from time to time,
and lunching at the same place. She made me promise, as a reward to
her for this delay, that the Boy and I would not take the way of the
Col de Balme, by which no carriage could pass. If we did this, our
party and hers must part company early in the day, and she would be
left to the