mber with an expression of absolute adoration and
gratitude. For tiny Pascherette was custodian of the giant's green
heart; and honest Milo never sought very deeply for motives. It was
enough for him that Dolores, his Sultana, the being he worshiped as he
worshiped his gods, was ministering with woman's infinite tenderness to
her maid, a creature as humble as himself.

Pearse, too, even in his intoxication of senses, saw and warmed to this
evidence of real womanliness in one he had small cause to think anything
other than a bewilderingly alluring fury. He could not hide his
thoughts, and Dolores saw them betrayed on his face; Pascherette
surprised the look on her mistress's lovely face that told her the
imperious beauty possessed a heart of living flesh and blood. And
Pascherette shuddered nervously at the fear of what must happen should
that heart ever feel humiliated.

"Keep still, child," Dolores laughed happily, mistaking the reason for
the girl's shudder. "It is finished now. Thy hurts will pass in thy
sleep. Go to thy big man there, and have him pet thee. I have no need of
thee until I call. Go, take him away. I would be alone with my guest."

The girl ran to Milo, and together they went down to the gallery beyond
the picture door. Then Dolores set out with her own fair hands wine and
sweetmeats, the confections taken from the yacht, strange and new to
her, but in her mind something desirable to such men as Pearse, else why
had they brought such things? And again using her innate witchery, she
set a chair for Pearse at a distance from her own, where she could look
straight into his face or hide her own, as her fancy dictated.

"Hast seen the like before?" she smiled, looking at him over the brim of
a chased gold flagon.

"Never, never, Dolores!" he said, and his eyes blazed into hers. He
moved his chair close to her, and reached for her free hand.

"What! Hast thou no eyes for these things?" she exclaimed in simulated
surprise, taking her hand away and indicating the wealth around the
walls. "Man, thy eyes are idle; look at those gems, those paintings;
hast ever seen the like of those 'Three Graces,' then, that they have no
interest for thee?"

"Yes, I have seen the like, wonderful, wonderful being," he returned
hoarsely. "You I have seen; you, you, I see nothing else but you,
Dolores!"

She dazzled him with a seductive smile, full of fire-specked softnesses,
and offered him her flagon.

"Drink, comrade