elled their
wits for some proper vantage. Of a sudden, Geoffrey clapped hand to
thigh. Student of Boccaccio, Heveletius, and other sages, he had the
clue in his palm. A whisper from him, a nod from Angelica, and the
twain withdrew from the box into the corridor without.

There, back to back, they disrobed swiftly, each tossing to other
every garment as it was doffed. Then a flurried toilet, and a
difficult, for the man especially; but hotness of desire breeds
dexterity. When they turned and faced each other, Angelica was such
a boy as Aladdin would not spurn as page, Geoffrey such a girl as the
widow might well covet as body-maid.

Out they hied under the stars, and sought way to the postern whereby
the mummers would come when their work were done. Thereat they
stationed themselves in shadow. A bitter night, with a lather of snow
on the cobbles; but they were heedless of that: love and their dancing
hearts warmed them.

They waited long. Strings of muffled figures began to file out, but
never an one like to Aladdin or the Widow. Midnight tolled. Had these
two had wind of the ambuscado and crept out by another door? Nay,
patience!

At last! A figure showed in the doorway--a figure cloaked womanly, but
topped with face of Aladdin. Trousered Angelica, with a cry, darted
forth from the shadow. To Mistress Vandeleur's eyes she was as truly
man as was Mistress Vandeleur to hers. Thus confronted, Mistress
Vandeleur shrank back, blushing hot.

"Nay!" laughs Angelica, clipping her by the wrists. "Cold boy, you
shall not so easily slip me. A pretty girl you make, Aladdin; but love
pierces such disguise as a rapier might pierce lard."

"Madman! Unhandle me!" screams the actress.

"No madman I, as well you know," answers Angelica, "but a maid whom
spurned love may yet madden. Kiss me on the lips!"

While they struggle, another figure fills the postern, and in an
instant Angelica is torn aside by Master Willie Joffers (well versed,
for all his mumming, in matters of chivalry). "Kisses for such coward
lips?" cries he. "Nay, but a swinge to silence them!" and would have
struck trousered Angelica full on the mouth. But decollete Geoffrey
Dizzard, crying at him "Sweet termagant, think not to baffle me by
these airs of manhood!" had sprung in the way and on his own nose
received the blow.

He staggered and, spurting blood, fell. Up go the buffo's hands,
and "Now may the Saints whip me," cries he, "for a tapster of
girl's blo