ert,
whose face--despite its airs of deference, was wreathed in an obviously
ironical smile.

It was only when the heavy oaken door had fallen to behind her duenna
that Gilda with an imperious little gesture called Diogenes before her.

He advanced hat in hand as was his wont, his magnificent figure very
erect, his head with its wealth of untamed curls slightly bent. But he
looked on her boldly with those laughter-filled, twinkling eyes of his
and since he was young and neither ascetic nor yet a misanthrope, we may
take it that he had some considerable pleasure in the contemplation of
the dainty picture which she presented against the background of dull
gold velvet: her small head propped against the cushions, and feathery
curls escaping from under her coif and casting pearly, transparent
shadows upon the ivory whiteness of her brow. Her two hands were resting
each on an arm of the chair, and looked more delicate than ever now in
the soft light of the tallow candles that burned feebly in the pewter
candelabra upon the table.

Diogenes for the moment envied his friend Frans Hals for the power which
the painter of pictures has of placing so dainty an image on record for
all time. His look of bold admiration, however, caused Gilda's glance to
harden, and she drew herself up in her chair in an attitude more
indicative of her rank and station and of her consciousness of his
inferiority.

But not with a single look or smile did she betray whether she had
recognized him or not.

"Your name?" she asked curtly.

His smile broadened--self-deprecatingly this time.

"They call me Diogenes," he replied.

"A strange name," she commented, "but 'tis of no consequence."

"Of none whatever," he rejoined, "I had not ventured to pronounce it,
only that you deigned to ask."

Again she frowned: the tone of gentle mockery had struck unpleasantly on
her ear and she did not like that look of self-satisfied independence
which sat on him as if to the manner born, when he was only an abject
menial, paid to do dirty work for his betters.

"I have sent for you, sir," she resumed after a slight pause, "because I
wished to demand of you an explanation of your infamous conduct. Roguery
and vagabondage are severely punished by our laws, and you have brought
your neck uncommonly near the gallows by your act of highway robbery. Do
you hear me?" she asked more peremptorily, seeing that he made no
attempt at a reply.

"I hear you, mejuffro