ightly pursed, then she
rolled it up, rose, and went off to the state-room of Madame de Warens
to bid her good-night.

Madame was sitting up in her bunk reading Maurice Barres' "Greco." The
air of the place was stifling with the fume of cigarettes, and the girl
nearly choked as she closed the door and stood facing the old lady in
the bunk.

"Why don't you smoke, then you wouldn't mind it," cried the latter,
putting her book down and taking off her glasses. "No, I won't have a
port opened, d'you want me to be blown out of my bunk? Sit down."

"No, I won't stay," replied the other, "I just came to say
good-night--and tell you something--He asked me to marry him."

"Who--Selm?"

"Yes."

"And what did you say?"

"I said 'No.'"

"Oh, you did?--and what's the matter with him--I mean what's the matter
with you?"

"How?"

"How! The best match in Europe and you say 'no' to him--a man who could
marry where he pleases and whom he pleased and you say 'no.'
Good-looking, without vices, richer than many a crowned head, second
only to the reigning families--and you say 'no.'"

The old lady was working herself up. This admirer of Anarchasis Clootz
and dilletanti of Anarchism had lately possessed one supreme desire, the
desire to have for niece the Princess Selm.

"I thought you didn't believe in all that," said the girl.

"All what?"

"Titles, wealth and so forth."

"I believe in seeing you happy and well-placed. I was not thinking of
myself--well, there, it's done. There is no use in talking any more, for
I know your disposition. You are hard, mademoiselle, that is your
failing--without real heart. It is the modern disease. Well, that is all
I have to say. I wish you good-night."

She put on her spectacles again.

"Good-night," said the other.

She went out, closed the door, and entered her state-room.

It was the same as Madame de Warens' only larger, a place to fill the
mind of the old-time seafarers with the wildest surprise, for here was
everything that a mortal could demand in the way of comfort and nothing
of the stuffy upholstery that the word "state-rooms" suggests to the
mind of the ordinary traveller.

The crimson velvet, so dear to the heart of the ship furnisher, was
supplanted by ribbed silk, Persian rugs covered the floor, the metal
fittings were of bronze, and worked, where possible, into sea designs:
dolphins, sea-horses, and fucus. There was a writing-table that could be
closed up into the