g another cigarette from the box beside her, and lighting
it deliberately, Madame de Medici spoke.

"My friend of old," she said, and of the language of China she made
strange music, "you come to me from your home in the secret city,
because you know that I can serve you. It is enough."

She touched the bell upon the table, and the white-robed servant
reentered, and, bowing low, held open the door. The little yellow man,
first kneeling upon the carpet before the divan as before an altar,
hurried from the apartment. As the door was reclosed, and Madame found
herself alone again, she laughed lightly, as Calypso laughed when
Ulysses' ship appeared off the shores of her isle.

God fashions few such women. It is well.

II

THE TIGER LADY

"By heavens, Annesley!" whispered Rene Deacon, "what eyes that woman
has!" His companion, following the direction of Deacon's glance, nodded
rather grimly.

"The eyes of a Circe, or at times the eyes of a tigress."

"She is magnificent!" murmured Deacon rapturously. "I have never seen so
beautiful a woman."

His glance followed the tall figure as it passed into a smaller salon on
the left; nor was he alone in his regard. Fashionable society was
well represented in the gallery--where a collection of pictures by a
celebrated artist was being shown; and prior to the entrance of the lady
in the strangely fashioned tiger-skin cloak, the somewhat extraordinary
works of art had engaged the interest even of the most fickle, but,
from the moment the tiger-lady made her appearance, even the most daring
canvases were forgotten.

"She wears tiger-skin shoes!" whispered one.

"She is like a design for a poster!" laughed another.

"I have never seen anything so flashy in my life," was the acrid comment
of a third.

"What a dazzlingly beautiful woman!" remarked another--this one a man.
While:

"Who is she?" arose upon all sides.

Judging from the isolation of the barbaric figure, it would seem that
society did not know the tiger-lady, but Deacon, seizing his companion
by the arm and almost dragging him into the small salon which the lady
had entered, turned in the doorway and looked into Annesley's eyes.
Annesley palpably sought to evade the glance.

"You know everybody," whispered Deacon. "You must be acquainted with
her."

A great number of people were now thronging into the room, not so
much because of the pictures it contained, but rather out of curiosity
respecting t