turned to
say that a gondola was at the water-gate. The Marquess hastened out and
presently reappeared with two masked and hooded figures. The first of
these, whom he led by the hand, entered with the air of one not
unaccustomed to her surroundings; but the other hung back, and on the
Marquess's inviting them to unmask, hurriedly signed to her friend to
refuse.

"Very well, fair strangers," said Coeur-Volant with a laugh; "if you
insist on prolonging our suspense we shall avenge ourselves by
prolonging yours, and neither my friend nor I will unmask till you are
pleased to set us the example."

The first lady echoed his laugh. "Shall I own," she cried, "that I
suspect in this unflattering compliance a pretext to conceal your
friend's features from me as long as possible? For my part," she
continued, throwing back her hood, "the mask of hypocrisy I am compelled
to wear in the convent makes me hate every form of disguise, and with
all my defects I prefer to be known as I am." And with that she detached
her mask and dropped the cloak from her shoulders.

The gesture revealed a beauty of the laughing sensuous type best suited
to such surroundings. Sister Mary of the Crucifix, in her sumptuous gown
of shot-silk, with pearls wound through her reddish hair and hanging on
her bare shoulders, might have stepped from some festal canvas of
Bonifazio's. She had laid aside even the light gauze veil worn by the
nuns in gala habit, and no vestige of her calling showed itself in dress
or bearing.

"Do you accept my challenge, cavaliere?" she exclaimed, turning on Odo a
glance confident of victory.

The Marquess meanwhile had approached the other nun with the intention
of inducing her to unmask; but as Sister Mary of the Crucifix advanced
to perform the same service for his friend, his irrepressible jealousy
made him step hastily between them.

"Come cavaliere," he cried, drawing Odo gaily toward the unknown nun,
"since you have induced one of our fair guests to unmask perhaps you may
be equally successful with the other, who appears provokingly
indifferent to my advances."

The masked nun had in fact retreated to a corner of the room and stood
there, drawing her cloak about her, rather in the attitude of a
frightened child than in that of a lady bent on a gallant adventure.

Sister Mary of the Crucifix approached her playfully. "My dear Sister
Veronica," said she, throwing her arm about the other's neck, "hesitates
to reveal