es upon
any youth in Madrid that had captivated her fancy so mightily, and she
thought to herself that when the time came for her to have a lover here
was the very lover she would choose. And then she remembered, with a
fluttering heart, that she was likely to become a great lady and the peer
of this fascinating dandiprat. As for him, he returned her gaze with a
bold stare of approval.

The Marquis de Chavernay agitated his dainty hands in delicate assurance.
"Agreeable, believe me," he asserted; and then asked: "Why has your
sister nymph retreated from the field? I could entertain the pair of
you."

As Flora's only answer to this assurance was a further, though perhaps
not very earnest, effort to enter the caravan, he restrained her with
appealing voice and gesture: "Please do not go."

Flora looked at him quizzically. "Why should I stay, pretty gentleman?"

The little marquis made her a bow. "Because you can do me a service,
pretty lady. Is there an inn hereabouts at the sign of the Three
Graces?"

Flora was curious. "Why do you want to know?"

The little marquis wore a mysterious look, as if all the political
secrets of the period were shut in his heart or head, and he lowered his
voice as he answered: "Because I am commissioned to ascertain its
whereabouts for a friend."

Flora laughed, and pointed to the Inn into which Gabrielle had retreated.
"You have not far to seek to oblige your friend," she said. "There it
stands behind you."

Chavernay swung round on his heels, and surveyed the modest little
hostelry with amusement. "The shelter of the fugitive nymph. Oh, now I
understand my friend's anxiety! Pretty child, my duty forces me to leave
you when my inclination would fling me into your arms. If I may wait upon
you later--"

This time Flora had evidently made up her mind that it would be
indiscreet of her further to prolong the colloquy. She dipped him a
courtesy, half mocking and half respectful, wished him good-day, and,
diving into the caravan, slammed the door in his face. The little marquis
seemed at first astonished at the austerity of the gypsy girl.

"Dido retires to her cave," he thought to himself. "Shall AEneas pursue?"
He made for a moment as if to advance and force his company upon the
seeming reluctant damsel. Then his volatile thoughts flickered back to
the girl who had entered the Inn. "Methinks," he reflected, "I would as
soon play Paris to yonder Helen. But I must not keep his Majest