ad fancied
was some slattern waiting on the old fanatic of a prince. He told Mila
this in a few words, and soon the pair laughed and chatted. In the
meantime Karospina, who had finished the letter, began to pace the
apartment. Apparently he had forgotten the others.

"Tea, tea, where's the tea?" he presently shouted. As they drank, he
said: "The prince asks an impossibility, Mr. Shannon. Say to him, _no_,
simply no; he will understand, and so will you, I hope. I'm done with
all militant movements. I'm converted to the peace party. What's the use
of liberty to people who won't know what to do with it when they get it?
Tolstoy is right. Let the peasant be shown how to save his soul--that
and a little to eat and drink and a roof are all he needs in this life."

Gerald was startled. He had expected to find an "advanced" leader of the
Bakounine type. Instead, a man of the "vegetarian" order,--as he had
heard them called,--who talked religion instead of dynamite;--and after
all the bother of bringing the letter down to this remote country!
Decidedly the princess was more enjoyable than a reformed anarchist. She
was gazing at him seriously now, her society manner gone. Her nose,
rather large for the harmony of her face, palpitated with eagerness.
Evidently, thought Gerald, the young lady is the real revolutionist in
this curious household. He also ventured to say so to her, but she did
not meet his smiling declaration. Her uncle, irritated by his
interrupted discourse, exclaimed:--

"Never mind what the Princess Mila thinks, Mr. Shannon. Women change
their minds. The chief matter just now is that you cannot go away
to-night. You would lose your way, perhaps be drowned. Can you sleep on
a hard bed?" He was assured by Gerald that, if he had been turned away,
he would have slept in an outhouse, even under one of those windmills he
saw in such number on the strand. Karospina smiled.

"Hardly there--that is, if you expected to awaken." Then he left the
room, saying that some one must see to the supper. His niece burst into
laughter. Gerald joined in.

"He's always like that, fussy, nervous, but with a heart of gold,
Mr.--Mr. Shannon. Thank you. It's an Irish name, is it not? And you look
like an Irishman; a soldier, too, I fancy!"

Gerald blushed. "A soldier in the cause of humanity," he answered, "but
no longer a hireling in the uniform of kings." He felt so foolish after
this brave bit of rhetoric that he kept his eyes on t