r of myself," he replied straitly; "if I say that I will
pray to-night, I will pray. And you must say that you will believe," he
insisted; "you must again have a faith in men, and in their truth, and
in honor." Then he paused lengthily. "And in love?" he continued; "say
that you will again believe in love?--you will, will you not? yes?"

"I don't know that I can do it, even if I want to," she said musingly;
"looking on at life is so terribly disheartening, especially with us in
America, you know."

"Oh," he said quickly, "but I do not want you to believe in love in
America; I talk of here in Munich."

"I suppose you mean yourself?"

"Yes," he said most emphatically,--"me."

She could not help laughing a little.

"You do really amuse me so much," she apologized.

A workman in a dirty blouse and a forlorn, green Tyrolese hat, the
cock's plume of which had been all too often rained upon, passed close
beside them. Von Ibn, nothing daunted, seized her gloved hand and
pressed it to his lips; she freed it quickly and swept all their
environage with one swift and comprehensive glance.

"If any one that knew us should see you!" she exclaimed.

He calmly gazed after the now distant workman.

"I did not know him," he said; "did you?"

Then she was obliged to laugh again.

"You are always so afraid of the world," he continued, remonstrating;
"what does it make if one do see me kiss your hand? kissing your hand is
so little kissing."

He paused a moment and smiled whimsically.

"I did really laugh alone in my room the other night. I sit there
smoking and thinking what a bad fright you have always when I will to
take your hand and kiss it--you fear ever that some one shall not be
there to see. Then I think, if I would give you a true kiss, that would
be to your mind so awful,--the fear of a seeing, you know,--that we must
then go in a cellar and bolt nine doors first, probably."

He laughed, but she did not.

"When I go into a cellar with you," she said coldly, "and allow nine
doors bolted, you may kiss me, and I pledge you my word not to scream."

A dead silence followed her remark, and lasted until Von Ibn broke it,
saying abstractedly:

"One does go underground to visit the breweries;" after which he
meditated some while longer before adding, "but they never would bolt
the doors, I think."

Rosina felt any comment on these words to be unnecessary and continued
upon the even tenor of her way. They were close