ntend to dance with her!"

The Cavaliere had been watching him attentively; he gently laid his hand
on his other arm. "Softly, softly, dear young man," he said. "Let me
speak to you as a friend."

"Oh, speak even as an enemy and I shall not mind it," Roderick answered,
frowning.

"Be very reasonable, then, and go away."

"Why the deuce should I go away?"

"Because you are in love," said the Cavaliere.

"I might as well be in love here as in the streets."

"Carry your love as far as possible from Christina. She will not listen
to you--she can't."

"She 'can't'?" demanded Roderick. "She is not a person of whom you may
say that. She can if she will; she does as she chooses."

"Up to a certain point. It would take too long to explain; I only beg
you to believe that if you continue to love Miss Light you will be
very unhappy. Have you a princely title? have you a princely fortune?
Otherwise you can never have her."

And the Cavaliere folded his arms again, like a man who has done his
duty. Roderick wiped his forehead and looked askance at Rowland; he
seemed to be guessing his thoughts and they made him blush a little. But
he smiled blandly, and addressing the Cavaliere, "I 'm much obliged to
you for the information," he said. "Now that I have obtained it, let
me tell you that I am no more in love with Miss Light than you are. Mr.
Mallet knows that. I admire her--yes, profoundly. But that 's no one's
business but my own, and though I have, as you say, neither a princely
title nor a princely fortune, I mean to suffer neither those advantages
nor those who possess them to diminish my right."

"If you are not in love, my dear young man," said the Cavaliere, with
his hand on his heart and an apologetic smile, "so much the better. But
let me entreat you, as an affectionate friend, to keep a watch on your
emotions. You are young, you are handsome, you have a brilliant genius
and a generous heart, but--I may say it almost with authority--Christina
is not for you!"

Whether Roderick was in love or not, he was nettled by what apparently
seemed to him an obtrusive negation of an inspiring possibility. "You
speak as if she had made her choice!" he cried. "Without pretending to
confidential information on the subject, I am sure she has not."

"No, but she must make it soon," said the Cavaliere. And raising his
forefinger, he laid it against his under lip. "She must choose a name
and a fortune--and she will!"

"She will