o see his little divinity."

"He was here when we came."

"True, but only for a day or two while his house was put in order. The
house is well worth seeing--one of the finest on the Corso. It is not
open to strangers, but if you would like to see it--"

"Certainly not," I interrupted, a little irritably, the more so from the
consciousness of having been a somewhat careless chaperone. I was coming
sharply up to the line of duty now, at all events.

"Helen," said I when we rose from the dinner-table, "do not go into the
parlor now. Come into my room a little while, please.--Well, Helen," I
resumed when we were seated by the pleasant window, "I have seen so
little of you for a week past that you must have a great deal to tell
me."

"I do not know," she replied. "I have been out every day with the
Glenns, just as you arranged for me, and I have been in the parlor in
the evenings, and sometimes I sang, and one night there was a French
gentleman--"

"How about the young count? The Italian says he is very much in love
with you. Do you know it?"

"He has told me so often enough, if that is knowing it," with a quick,
impatient toss of the small, graceful head.

"Oh, Helen!" I cried in real distress, "and what did you say to him?"

"Why, what _could_ I say in that great parlor, with everybody
looking on? I just hushed him up as well as I could. There is the tall
English girl and that sharp-eyed Miss Donaldson, who are watching us the
whole time. It is real mean in them," excitedly. "And the count doesn't
mind letting everybody know how much he admires me. In fact, he is proud
of it, like one of the old knights, who used to wear their ladies'
favors as openly and proudly as they bore their knightly banners."

"This will never do, Helen. Don't you see that this boy is not like the
gay Frenchman that you danced with last winter? Rene Vergniaud was a man
of the world: he could take care of himself. But this beautiful boy,
with his intensity of feeling, his ideal passionate love--You must not
play with him," I exclaimed vehemently.

"I am not playing with him: I never do anything to make him like me. He
comes and talks to me, and I just make myself as agreeable to him as I
can, that is all."

That is all, is it, you little mischief? thought I. As if that were not
the very refinement of coquetry! But I prudently refrained from saying
it, for a tempest of hot tears began to fall, and she sobbed, "Oh,
Madame Fleming, I did