r, that this romantic cavalier carried away with him a
ribbon from the dress of the young lady--only a ribbon. I told Irene of
this impertinence; she did not even condescend to answer me."

"But the Paladin did not long content himself with this silent homage, I
presume?"

"Women are idiots, you know, and this man now passes Irene's windows
daily, and even throws flowers over the garden wall; and this woman, who
is to be my wife, stands behind the curtain and watches for his coming.
This my own eyes have seen, and I have come to the conclusion that it
has gone on long enough--"

"Ah! and you wish to get rid of this gallant. The matter ought to be
easy enough."

"Yes, one would think so. I have kept my valet on the watch, and
discovered that he came every day to the _Cafe de Valois_ at this
hour--"

"My dear Talizac, I can put an end to all your difficulties. If
Mademoiselle de Salves has built up a pretty romance, I can banish her
dreams by telling her the name of her lover. Your rival, my dear fellow,
is or was rather, a mountebank, and his name is Fanfar."

The Vicomte laughed long and loud.

"Upon my word!" he exclaimed, as soon as he could speak, "I should have
made a fool of myself, had I fought a duel with the fellow! But do the
men who are with him know who he is?"

"Certainly. They know perfectly well. And yet shake hands with him! They
call him their friend."

The Italian could stand no more of this. He rose from his chair. "Come,"
he said, "this is the Carnival, let us end the day merrily."

"I should be only too glad to do so," was the Vicomte's reply, "anything
to make me forget the disagreeable scene with that man!"

The Vicomte called the contumely heaped on his father's name and his
own, "a disagreeable scene."

The two young men sauntered across the garden. Just as they reached the
fountain, Frederic stopped.

"What is it?" asked the Italian.

A young girl was singing to a guitar. A curious crowd had gathered about
her. She was a pretty creature; her brown curls were covered by a
handkerchief of white wool, her face was perfect in shape and in
coloring, her eyes were dark--gay, but at the same time innocent.

She accompanied herself on a guitar as she sang, and her voice was so
delicious that the crowd clamored for more. The girl bowed her thanks,
and extended the back of her guitar for money. She colored deeply as she
did so. When she reached Frederic, he said, in a whisper, as he lai