m told--a mighty hunter. I wonder why Englishmen always
want to kill something."

Paul smiled, without making an immediate answer. He was not the man to
be led into the danger of repartee by such as De Chauxville.

"We have a few bears left," he said.

"You are fortunate," protested De Chauxville. "I shot one when I was
younger. I was immensely afraid, and so was the bear. I have a great
desire to try again."

Etta glanced at Paul, who returned De Chauxville's bland gaze with all
the imperturbability of a prince.

The countess's cackling voice broke in at this juncture, as perhaps De
Chauxville had intended it to do.

"Then why not come and shoot ours?" she said. "We have quite a number of
them in the forests at Thors."

"Ah, Mme. la Comtesse," he answered, with outspread, deprecatory hands,
"but that would be taking too great an advantage of your hospitality and
your well-known kindness."

He turned to Catrina, who received him with a half-concealed frown. The
countess bridled and looked at her daughter with obvious maternal
meaning, as one who was saying, "There--you bungled your prince, but I
have procured you a baron."

"The abuse of hospitality is the last refuge of the needy," continued De
Chauxville oracularly. "But my temptation is strong; shall I yield to
it, mademoiselle?"

Catrina smiled unwillingly.

"I would rather leave it to your own conscience," she said. "But I fail
to see the danger you anticipate."

"Then I accept, madame," said De Chauxville, with the engaging
frankness which ever had a false ring in it.

If the whole affair had been prearranged in Claude de Chauxville's mind,
it certainly succeeded more fully than is usually the case with human
schemes. If, on the other hand, this invitation was the result of
chance, Fortune had favored Claude de Chauxville beyond his deserts.

The little scene had played itself out before the eyes of Paul, who did
not want it; of Etta, who desired it; and of Catrina, who did not
exactly know what she wanted, with the precision of a stage-play
carefully rehearsed.

Claude de Chauxville had unscrupulously made use of feminine vanity with
all the skill that was his. A little glance toward Etta, as he accepted
the invitation, conveyed to her the fact that she was the object of his
clever little plot; that it was in order to be near her that he had
forced the Countess Lanovitch to invite him to Thors; and Etta, with all
her shrewdness, was promptly h