has gone. Were we not a happy family together for
weeks?" La Signorina smiled wanly. "To-morrow I am going to write Mr.
Hillard; I am going to tell him the story. From your point of view you
may write me down a silly fool, but one's angle of vision is not
immutable."

"You're the finest woman in the world," declared O'Mally; "and whatever
you have done has been right, I know."

Then Kitty ran up to La Signorina and embraced her; and the eyes of both
of them swam in tears.

"You will be happy, at any rate, Kitty."

"Poor girl!" cried Kitty. Princesses were mortal like other people. "How
I love you! Come back with us to America."

"I must live out the puzzle over here."

When Hillard and La Signorina were at length alone, he asked: "When
shall I see you again?"

"Who knows? Some day, perhaps, when time has softened the sharp edges of
this moment, the second bitterest I have ever known. To-morrow I shall
write, or very soon. Now, give me your promise that you will no more
seek me till I send for you."

"You will send for me?" with eagerness and hope.

"Why not?" proudly. "There is nothing wrong in our friendship, and I
prize it. Promise."

"I promise. Good-by! If I remain any longer I shall be making mad,
regrettable proposals. For a little while I have lived in paradise.
Wherever I may be, at the world's end, you have but to call me; in a
month, in a year, a decade, I shall come. Good-by!" Without looking at
her again, he rushed away.

She remained standing there as motionless as a statue. It seemed to her
that all animation was suspended, and that she could not have moved if
she had tried. By and by she gazed round the room, fast dimming; at the
guttering candles, at the empty chairs, at the vacant doors and hollow
windows.... He had not asked her if she loved him, and that was well.
But there was not at that moment in all the length and breadth of Italy
a lonelier woman than her Highness the Principessa di Monte Bianca.

Meanwhile the prince, raging and out of joint with the world, mounted
his horse. He would have revenge for this empty scabbard, or he would
resign his commission. His throat still ached and pointed lights danced
before his eyes. Eh, well! This time to-morrow night the American should
pay dearly for it. His short laugh had an ugly sound. This American was
just the kind of chivalric fool to accept a challenge. But could he
handle foils? Could he fight? Could any of these damned American
h