ly smiled, saying that Rosalie could know
nothing, and the fellow was probably some secret lover. The next night,
and the next, I watched, until, on the third evening, they met again at
the same time and place, and on that occasion I followed the mysterious
stranger. He was a thin, cadaverous-looking Frenchman, hollow-cheeked,
rather shabbily dressed, and wore _pince-nez_. I watched him back into
the town, and lingered near him in a cafe until nearly one o'clock, when
he entered his quarters at an uninviting, unfashionable hotel, the
"Falcon," in the Via Vittorio. From the manner he had treated her I
judged him to be a relation, probably her uncle. Yet why she should meet
him clandestinely was an utter mystery.

In order still to keep watch upon the maid I made a fervent protest of
affection, and frequently met her between the dinner-hour and midnight.
Through all this time, however, Bindo never gave a sign, even in secret,
that he was acquainted with Valentine or myself, and this very fact in
itself aroused my suspicions that he knew our movements were being
closely watched.

Meanwhile, Princess Helen, who had become the most popular figure in
Leghorn, and had given her patronage to several functions in the cause
of charity, went out a great deal, and I accompanied her very frequently
to the best houses.

"Poor Bindo is having a pretty quiet time, I fear," she laughed to me
one day in her easy, irresponsible way. "He is lying low."

"Waiting for the _coup_--eh?"

She smiled, but would, even then, tell me nothing.

Among the most devoted of her admirers was the Jew banker of Turin,
Jacobi, and his wife, a stout, vulgar, over-dressed person, who was
constantly dancing attendance upon her "dear Princess," as she called
her. Valentine rather liked her, or pretended to, for on several
occasions she lent her Rosalie to dress her hair. Jacobi himself was, it
seemed, on friendly terms with Bindo. Sometimes I saw the pair strolling
together at Pancaldi's, and once the young Marquis of Rapallo was with
them.

One hot, stifling night, a brilliant ball was held, arranged at the
Princess's instigation, in the cause of charity. All the smart world
attended, and dancing was almost at an end when Bindo met me alone out
upon one of the balconies.

"Go, and change at once," he whispered. "Take the car out of the town
beyond the railway station, a little way on the Pisa road. There wait,
but attract no attention." And the next