out of
the window in a sort of rapt admiration for the Insel rose-bushes in the
foreground and the placid Bodensee beyond.

It was the waiter who jarred them all three back to the knowledge of
mundane things by bringing soup for the latest arrival and ices for his
two companions.

"Ah, now I may eat!" the gentleman exclaimed in a tone of deep
satisfaction, and began at once.

"You must not be surprised over me," he said to Molly, with a slight
smile.

"I was not surprised," she reassured him.

"Because I have not eaten to-day before," he explained.

"Really?"

"Yes, of a truthfulness. I am most _drole_ as that. I may never eat when
I am much troubled."

"Dear me, have you been troubled to-day?"

He looked at Rosina, whose face blazed yet deeper.

"I have said that I may not eat," he repeated simply.

Molly laid down her spoon and glanced out of the window again. Her
feminine instinct divined what was to be.

"And madame your friend, she is not ill, I hope?" he inquired politely,
as the waiter removed his soup.

"No," said the Irish girl, slowly, "or--that is,--yes, yes, she is."

"And you must go at once to her," he cried, springing up to draw back
her chair, "I am so sad for that."

Molly rose to her feet.

"I'm sorry, too," she said, nodding a smiling thanks; "but you see I've
no choice." And then she went coffee-less away to laugh alone
above-stairs.

Von Ibn sat down again and ate his fish in silence. He did not appear
greatly perturbed over the twin-silence which was opposite him, rather
seeming to reflect upon the fresh reconciliation which was building
itself on such a substantial foundation of blushes.

Finally, when the fish was gone, he leaned somewhat forward and spoke
very low.

"_Oh, que j'etais malheureux hier le soir!_" he said in a tone that
trembled with feeling; "you can figure to yourself nothing of what it
was! And this morning--when I send and find that you are gone!--I must
know then that you were very furious of me."

She raised her eyes, but to the window, not to him.

"I was," she said briefly, but not the less tensely.

"When you are run last night--on the stairs like that, you know!--it
should have been amusing to see you run so fast; but I was not any
amused whatever. But why did you run?" he questioned, interrupting
himself; "did you think to leave me always then, there, forever? For an
instant I had the idea to go after you, but the _Portier_ was there, and
I