n Poor Jr.'s
eyes, as if he comprehended that strange things were to come; but, ah,
the face of distress and wonder upon Mrs. Landry, who beheld the peace
of both a Prince and a dinner assailed; and, alas! the strange and hurt
surprise that came from the lady of the pongee! Let me not be a boastful
fellow, but I had borne her pity and had adored it--I could face her
wonder, even her scorn.

It was in the flash of her look that I saw my great chance and what I
must try to do. Knowing Antonio, it was as if I saw her falling into the
deep water and caught just one contemptuous glance from her before the
waves hid her. But how much juster should that contempt have been if I
had not tried to save her!

As for that old Antonio, he might have known enough to beware. I had
been timid with him always, and he counted on it now, but a man who has
shown a painted head-top to the people of Paris will dare a great deal.

"As the Prince says," replied Mrs. Landry, with many flutters, "one
meets only the most agreeable people in Paris!"

"Paris!" I exclaimed. "Ah, that home of ingenuity! How they paint there!
How they live, and how they dye--their beards!"

You see how the poor Ansolini played the buffoon. I knew they feared
it was wine, I had been so silent until now; but I did not care, I was
beyond care.

"Our young Prince speaks truly," I cried, raising my voice. "He is wise
beyond his years, this youth! He will be great when he reaches middle
age, for he knows Paris and understands North America! Like myself, he
is grateful that the people of your continent enrich our own! We need
all that you can give us! Where should we be--any of us" (I raised my
voice still louder and waved my hand to Antonio),--"where should we be,
either of us" (and I bowed to the others) "without you?"

Mrs. Landry rose with precipitousness, and the beautiful lady, very red,
followed. Antonio, unmistakably stung with the scorpions I had set upon
him, sprang to the door, the palest yellow man I have ever beheld, and
let the ladies pass before him.

The next moment I was left alone with Poor Jr. and his hyacinth trees.

Chapter Nine

For several minutes neither of us spoke. Then I looked up to meet my
friend's gaze of perturbation.

A waiter was proffering cigars. I took one, and waved Poor Jr.'s hand
away from the box of which the waiter made offering.

"Do not remain!" I whispered, and I saw his sad perplexity. "I know her
answer has no