this, for I had refused Gaeta's
invitation to visit at her house, and having done so I could not ask
for another, even if I would. Probably the Boy would know well enough
how far to go, and to protect himself from consequences when he had
reached the limit.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXI

The Challenge

"'Do I indeed lack courage?' inquired Mr. Archer of himself,
'Courage, . . . that does not fail a weasel or a rat--
that is a brutish faculty?'"--R.L. STEVENSON.

I drank my black coffee and smoked a cigarette. Then, a glance at my
watch told me that it was time to keep the appointment at the Villa
des Fleurs, five minutes' walk from the hotel. I expected the
Contessa's party to be late, but somewhat to my surprise they had
already arrived, and a quick glance showed me that, outwardly at
least, the relations of all were still amicable.

"Signor Boy did not wish to come," said the Contessa to me, "but I
made him. He says that he does not like crowds. Look at him now; he
has wandered far from us already, probably to find some dark corner
where he can forget that there are too many people. But then, it was
sweet of him to come at all, since it was only to please me."

It was true. The Boy had slipped away from the seats we had taken near
the music. He had gone to avoid me, perhaps, I said to myself
bitterly. I need not have spoiled my dinner with anxiety for his
welfare; he seemed to be taking very good care of himself.

"I was horribly worried at dinner," whispered Gaeta to me, the light
of the fireworks playing rosily over her face. "Those two--you know
of whom I speak--weren't a bit nice to each other. It was Paolo who
began it, of course, saying little, hateful things that sounded
smooth, but had a second meaning; and Signor Boy is not stupid. He did
not miss the bad intention, oh, not he, and he said other little
things back again, much sharper and wittier than Paolo, who was
furious, and gnawed his lip. It was most exciting."

"Did you try to pour oil on the troubled waters?" I asked.

"I was very pleasant to them both, if that is what you mean, first to
one and then to the other. After dinner, I gave Signor Boy a rose, and
Paolo a gardenia."

"How charming of you," I commented drily. "If that didn't smooth
matters, what could?"

The aeronaut was sitting on Gaeta's left, I on her right, with the
Baronessa next me on the other side, and both were straining every
nerve to hear our