h scarcely cool, it was here that we took our daily
carriage exercise; anything more strenuous is regarded with horror by
the ladies of Spain.

There was a shout, and a sudden hush; all carriages were halted and
their occupants uncovered, for royalty was passing. The coach, a
magnificent though cumbersome affair, passed slowly and gravely by. On
the rear seat were the princess and her little English cousin, while
opposite them sat the great duke himself.

By his side was a young man of five and twenty with a white face and
weak chin, and glassy, meaningless eyes. I turned to my companion and
asked in a low tone who he was. Her whispered answer caused me to
start with surprise, and I turned to her with a question.

"But why is he in Madrid?"

"Oh, as to that," said my friend, smiling, "you must ask Desiree."

"And who is Desiree?"

"What! You do not know Desiree! Impossible!" she exclaimed.

"My dear," said I, "you must remember that for the past year and a half
I have been buried in the land of pork and gold. The gossip there is
neither of the poet nor the court. I am ignorant of everything."

"You would not have been so much longer," said my friend, "for Desiree
is soon going to America. Who is she? No one knows. What is she?
Well, she is all things to some men, and some things to all men. She
is a courtesan among queens and a queen among courtesans.

"She dances and loves, and, I presume, eats and sleeps. For the past
two years she has bewitched him"--she pointed down the drive to where
the royal coach was disappearing in the distance--"and he has given her
everything.

"It was for her that the Duke of Bellarmine built the magnificent
chalet of which I was telling you on Lake Lucerne. You remember that
Prince Dolansky shot himself 'for political reasons' in his Parisian
palace? But for Desiree he would be alive to-day. She is a witch and
a she-devil, and the most completely fascinating woman in the world."

I smiled.

"What a reputation! And you say she is going to America?"

"Yes. It is to be supposed that she has heard that every American is a
king, and it is no wonder if she is tired of only one royal lover at a
time. And listen, Paul--"

"Well?"

"You--you must not meet her. Oh, but you do not know her power!"

I laughed and pressed her hand, assuring her that I had no intention of
allowing myself to be bewitched by a she-devil; but as our carriage
turned and started back do