hat you are to say."

"Perhaps it would be better," the man said, "if I spoke to madame
alone."

"Say what you have to say," his mistress commanded. "I presume you have
an answer from Miss Pleyel?"

The man who was a young and by no means ill-looking fellow, was
evidently in considerable distress. "It is not my fault, Madame la
Baronne," he said, with an appealing glance at me, "but Miss
Pleyel's message is that she declines to meet Captain Fyffe under any
circumstances."

"That will do," said his mistress. "You can go."

The man retired once more. I could see that the baroness was
disappointed, but she made the best of the circumstances.

"I am not surprised," she said, with as fine an expression of scorn as
she could command.

"Nor am I," I responded. "It is natural that Miss Pleyel should not wish
to meet one who knew her fifteen years ago."

"It is like a man and a soldier," she said, "to presume upon the natural
delicacy of a lady under such circumstances. She shrinks from you and
fears you. She dare not encounter you even in the presence of so dear
a friend as I am. But I do not shrink from you, Captain Fyffe, and I am
not afraid of you. I tell you once more that I think your coming here
is, all things considered, as pretty a piece of audacity as I can
remember."

"Madame," I answered, "I came here with a purpose. When I have fulfilled
that purpose I will relieve you of my presence."

"Go on," she interjected, contemptuously.

"The position is both difficult and delicate, but my duty is plain, and
I see no way of escape from it."

"Your duty to yourself," said the baroness, "is plain enough. Such
a man as I see you now to be will make it his duty, at any cost, to
defend himself."

"To defend himself from what, madame?" I asked, surprised at her
boldness.

"From the plain truth," she answered, with an expression of anger and
disdain which, if not real, was an excellent bit of acting in its way.
"The brave Captain Fyffe is ambitious, and has made up his mind to marry
money; but Miss Rossano, whom I have the honor to know, might shrink
from Captain Fyffe if she knew him to be not merely a penniless
adventurer, but a perjured and heartless villain.'

"Madame," I replied, "I will not be so poor a diplomatist as to lose my
temper over these charges. There are hundreds of people still alive in
my native place to whom Miss Pleyel's miserable history is known, and
such a charge as you are making could