etly, and the two men
exchanged a glance.

De Chauxville shook hands with the new-comers, and, while the countess
prepared tea for him, launched into a long description of the
preparations for the bear-hunt of the following day. He addressed his
remarks exclusively to Paul, as between enthusiasts and
fellow-sportsmen. Gradually Paul thawed a little, and made one or two
suggestions which betrayed a deep knowledge and a dawning interest.

"We shall only be three rifles," said De Chauxville, "Steinmetz, you,
and I; and I must ask you to bear in mind the fact that I am no shot--a
mere amateur, my dear prince. The countess has been good enough to leave
the whole matter in my hands. I have seen the keepers, and I have
arranged that they come to-night at eleven o'clock to see us and to
report progress. They know of three bears, and are attempting to ring
them."

The Frenchman was really full of information and enthusiasm. There were
many details upon which he required Paul's advice, and the two men
talked together with less constraint than they had hitherto done. De
Chauxville had picked up a vast deal of technical matter, and handled
his little knowledge with a skill which bade fair to deprive it of its
proverbial danger. He presently left Steinmetz and the prince engaged in
a controversy with the countess as to a meeting-place at the
luncheon-hour.

Maggie and Catrina were at the piano. Etta was looking at a book of
photographs.

"A charming house, princess," said De Chauxville, in a voice that all
could hear while the music happened to be soft. But Catrina's music was
more remarkable for strength than for softness.

"Charming," replied Etta.

The music rose into a swelling burst of harmonious chords.

"I must see you, princess," said De Chauxville.

Etta glanced across the room toward her husband and Steinmetz.

"Alone," added the Frenchman coolly.

Etta turned a page of the album and looked critically into a photograph.

"Must!" she said, with a little frown.

"Must!" repeated De Chauxville.

"A word I do not care about," said Etta, with raised eyebrows.

The music was soft again.

"It is ten years since I held a rifle," said De Chauxville. "Ah, madame,
you do not know the excitement. I pity ladies, for they have no
sport--no big game."

"Personally, monsieur," answered Etta, with a bright laugh, "I do not
grudge you your big game. Suppose you miss the bear, or whatever it may
be?"

"Then," said De