alf-circle until they caressed
his nose on either side. He bustled about placing table and chairs, and
recklessly dusting them with the clean napkin. The signorina laid her
fluffy white parasol on one chair and seated herself on another, her
profile turned to the summer-house. Gustavo hovered over them, awaiting
their pleasure, the genius itself of respectful devotion. It was
Constance who gave the order--she, it might be noticed, gave most of the
orders that were given in her vicinity. She framed it in English out of
deference to Gustavo's pride in his knowledge of the language.

'A glass of _vino santo_ for the signore and _limonata_ for me. I wish to
put the sugar in myself, the last time you mixed it, Gustavo, it was all
sugar and no lemon. And bring a bowl of cracked ice--_fino_--_fino_--and
some pine nut cakes if you are sure they are fresh.'

'Sank you, signorina. _Subitissimo_!'

He was off across the court, his black coat-tails, his white napkin
streaming behind, proclaiming to all the world that he was engaged on the
Signorina Americana's bidding; for persons of lesser note he still
preserved a measure of dignity.

The young man in the summer-house had meanwhile dropped his cigarette
upon the floor and noiselessly stepped on it. He had also--with the
utmost caution lest the chair creak--shifted his position so that he
might command the profile of the girl. The entrance to the summer house
was fortunately on the other side, and in all likelihood they would not
have occasion to look within. It was eavesdropping of course, but he had
already been convicted of that yesterday, and in any case it was not such
very bad eavesdropping. The courtyard of the Hotel du Lac was public
property; he had been there first, he was there by rights as a guest of
the house; if anything, they were the interlopers. Besides, nobody talked
secrets with a head waiter. His own long conversations with Gustavo were
as open and innocent as the day; the signorina was perfectly welcome to
listen to them as much as she chose.

She was sitting with her chin in her hand, eyeing the flying coat-tails
of Gustavo, a touch of amusement in her face. Her father was eyeing her
severely.

'Constance, it is disgraceful!'

She laughed. Apparently she already knew or divined what it was that was
disgraceful, but the accusation did not appear to bother her much. Mr.
Wilder proceeded grumblingly.

'It's bad enough with those five deluded officers, b