?"

"How unkind of you!" she protested, blushing slightly. "You really ought
not to say such things."

"Well, well, forgive me, won't you?" said the Count quickly; and
together we strolled into the town, where we had an _aperatif_ at the
gay Cafe de l'Opera, opposite the public gardens.

Here, however, a curious _contretemps_ occurred.

She accidently upset her glass of "Dubonnet" over her left hand,
saturating her white glove so that she was compelled to take it off.

"Why!" ejaculated the Count in sudden amazement, pointing to her
uncovered hand. "What does that mean?"

She wore upon her finger a wedding ring!

Her face went crimson. For a moment the pretty girl was too confused to
speak.

"Ah!" she cried in a low, earnest tone, as she bent towards him.
"Forgive me, Bindo. I--I did not tell you. How could I?"

"You should have told me. It was your duty to tell me. Remember, we are
old friends. How long have you been married?"

"Only three weeks. This is my honeymoon."

"And your husband?"

"Four days ago business took him to Genoa. He is still absent."

"And, in the meanwhile, you meet me, and are the merry little Gabrielle
of the old days--eh?" remarked Bindo, placing both elbows upon the
marble-topped table and looking straight into her face.

"Do you blame me, then?" she asked. "I admit that I deceived you, but it
was imperative. Our encounter has brought back all the past--those
summer days of two years ago when we met at Fontainebleau. Do you still
remember them?" Her eyelids trembled.

I saw that, though married, she still regarded the handsome Bindo with a
good deal of affection.

"I don't blame you," was his soft reply. "I suppose it is what anybody
else would have done in the circumstances. Do I remember those days, you
ask? Why, of course I do. Those picnics in the forest with you, your
mother, and your sister Julie were delightful days--days never to
return, alas! And so you are really married! Well, you must tell me all
about it later. Let's lunch together at the London House." Then he added
reflectively, "Well, this really is a discovery--my little Gabrielle
actually married! I had no idea of it."

She laughed, blushing again.

"No; I don't suppose you had. I was very, very foolish to take off my
glove, yet if I had kept up the deception any longer I might perhaps
have compromised myself."

"Was it not--well, a little risky of you to go to Beaulieu with me
yesterday?"

"Yes. I w