. I must dress,
as I am invited to the ball of one of the most beautiful women in the
city to-night at the residence of the Duke of Maranese."

"But the Duke is not living there any more," Olga interposed. "He is in
Madrid."

"Yes, I know that; I met the Duke in Paris."

"He has sold his house to us. We are living there now, and the ball is
given by me," she went on.

The man looked at her, his black eyes seeming to burn through her own.
Shrinking, fearful, fascinated, Olga was held in the spell of those
eyes.

"Was I mistaken? Am I not invited?" he asked.

"Yes, you are invited," she faltered.

She could not resist the subtle influence of the man, even while every
instinct of good made her recoil from him. With a triumphant smile he
bowed and said softly:

"Madam, a little while ago you asked me what I wanted. It was your
invitation that I wanted. I thank you."

"But my husband," Olga said, already repenting of the advantage she had
given him.

"Oh, he will be delighted to see me," the stranger assured her
confidently. "He speculates in wheat; I have information that will be of
value to him. The crop has turned out worse than was expected. You love
your husband; you should be happy that the wheat crop is bad."

"I am," Olga assented. "We want wheat to be bad because the price will
go up."

"Your husband will make another fortune, and you will have the new gown
you want."

"How do you know I want a new gown?" Olga asked, falling in once more
with the devil's humor of the man.

"I observe that you have a new hat, and a very pretty one; surely you
want a new gown."

"You must be married."

"Married! not I," he exclaimed. "A wife is like a monocle; it looks
well, but one sees more clearly without it."

"Your views seem against marriage; why?" Olga asked.

The tone of Millar became suddenly serious as he said:

"You want Karl to marry; I want to prevent him from marrying."

"Please let's not discuss that," Karl protested.

"Pardon me, Karl, but an artist should not marry," he went on. "Your
future wife will swear to stand by your side for life--until the wedding
day--and the day after she will be in your way."

"Not the true wife," Olga declared.

"Ah, but the true wife is always the other fellow's wife," he answered.

Millar had talked so absorbingly that Karl and Olga unconsciously drew
near to each other. They stood in front of the high pulpit back of the
arm-chair, each one resting a han