had soon
headed her round.

"I presume that I have the honour of addressing the Signorina
Marinelli?" I panted, in French, as I faced her, hat in hand.

She answered me by a piercing shriek, which left no room for doubt as to
her identity.

"For the love of Heaven, don't do that!" I entreated, in an agony. "You
will alarm the whole neighbourhood and ruin us both. Believe me, I am
only here as your friend, and very much against my own wishes. I have
come on the part of Count Albrecht von Rosenau, who is unable to come
himself, because--"

Here she opened her mouth with so manifest an intention of raising
another resounding screech that I became desperate, and seized her by
the wrists in my anxiety. "_Sgridi ancora una volta_," says I, in the
purest _lingua Toscana_, "_e la lascero qui_--to get out of this mess as
best you can--_cosi sicuro che il mio nome e Jenkinsono_!"

To my great relief she began to laugh. Immediately afterward, however,
she sat down on the shingle and began to cry. It was too vexatious: what
on earth was I to do?

"Do you understand English?" I asked, despairingly.

She shook her head, but sobbed out that she spoke French; so I proceeded
to address her in that language.

"Signorina, if you do not get up and control your emotion, I will not
be answerable for the consequences. We are surrounded by dangers of the
most--compromising description; and every moment of delay must add
to them. I know that the officers often come out here to bathe in the
morning; so do many of the English people from Danielli's. If we are
discovered together there will be such a scandal as never was, and you
will most assuredly not become Countess von Rosenau. Think of that, and
it will brace your nerves. What you have to do is to come directly with
me to the boat which is all ready to take us to Mestre. Allow me to
carry your hand-bag."

Not a bit of it! The signorina refused to stir.

"What is it? Where is Alberto? What has happened?" she cried. "You have
told me nothing."

"Well, then, I will explain," I answered, impatiently. And I explained
accordingly.

But, dear me, what a fuss she did make over it all! One would have
supposed, to hear her, that I had planned this unfortunate complication
for my own pleasure, and that I ought to have been playing the part of a
suppliant instead of that of a sorely tried benefactor. First she was
so kind as to set me down as an imposter, and was only convinced of my
ho