ene closed the portfolio and
exclaimed:

"Rozina, these men are terrible creatures! They make us women their
slaves. But the woman's first and dominant thought must ever be to find
some escape from her bondage."

With that she jumped up and ran out of the room, as if taken suddenly
ill. Her hostess followed to see what was the matter, and found her
sitting in a corner of the adjoining apartment.

"You are weeping?"

"Not at all; never merrier in my life!"

Nevertheless, two tears were shining in the fair Cyrene's eyes.

Next she ran to the piano and began to rattle off "La Gitana," which
Cerito had just made so popular throughout Europe.

"Have you the score?" asked the marchioness, turning to Blanka.

"No, but I can play it from memory."

"Then play it to me, please."

Blanka complied, and the other began to dance "La Gitana" to her
playing. The spirit and feeling, the coquettish grace and seductive
charm, which the dancer put into the movements of her lithe form,
challenge description. If only a man could have seen her then! From
sheer amazement Blanka found herself unable to control her fingers,
which struck more than one false note.

"Faster! Put more fire into it!" cried the dancer. But Blanka could not
go on.

"Ah, you don't remember it, after all."

"I can't play when I look at you," was the reply; and the Marchioness
Caldariva believed her. "You could drive a man fairly insane."

"As long as the men will torment us, we must be able to pay them back."
She took Blanka's arm and returned with her to the other room. "Woe to
him who invades my kingdom!" she continued. "He is bound to lose his
reason. Do you wish to wager that I can't drive all Rome crazy over me?
If I took a notion to dance the 'Gitana' on the opera-house stage for
the benefit of the wounded soldiers, all Rome would go wild with
enthusiasm, and the people would half smother me with flowers."

"I will make no such wager with you," returned Blanka, "because I know I
should lose."

The beautiful Cyrene changed the subject and invited the princess to
attend one of her masked balls,--"a masquerade party," she explained,
"of only forty guests at the most, and those the chief personages of
Roman society. I ferret out all their secrets and can see through their
masks; but I use no witchery about it. My guests are admitted by ticket
only, and my major-domo, who receives these cards, writes on the back of
each a short description of the be