of that," and she smiled mockingly;
"sometimes I have a fancy it may be witchcraft. I only know I am
haunted--have been haunted four long weeks by a face, a voice, and two
blue eyes."

"Blue?" Dumaresque glanced in the mirror--his own eyes were blue.

"Yes, Monsieur Loris--blue with a dash of grey--the grey of the sea
when clouds are heavy, and the blue of the farthest waves before the
storm breaks--don't you see the color?"

"Only the color of your fancy. He is the owner of blue eyes, a
haunting voice, and--what else is my rival?"

"A foreigner, and--Monsieur Incognito."

"You have met?"

"Three times;" and she held up as many white fingers. The reply
evidently astounded Dumaresque.

"You have met three times a man whose name you do not know?"

"We are even on that score," she said, "for he has spoken to me three
times and does not know what I am called."

"But to address you--"

"He called me Mademoiselle Unknown."

"Bravo! This grows piquant; an adventure with all the flavor of the
eighteenth instead of the nineteenth century. A real adventure, and
you its heroine! Oh, Marquise, Marquise!"

"Ah! since you appreciate the humor of the affair you will no longer
be oppressed by sentimental fancies concerning me;" and she nodded her
head as though well pleased with the experiment of her confession.
"You perceive how wildly improper I have been; still, I deny the
eighteenth century flavor, Monsieur. Then, with three meetings the
cavalier would have developed into a lover, and having gained entrance
to a lady's heart, he would have claimed also the key to her castle."

"Astute pupil of the nuns!--and Monsieur Incognito?"

"He certainly does not fancy me possessed of either castle or keys. I
was to him only an unpretentious English companion in attendance on
Madame Blanc in the woods of Fontainbleau."

"English! Since when are you fond enough of them to claim kindred?"

"He was English; he supposed me so when I replied to him in that
tongue. He had taken the wrong path and--"

"And you walked together on another, also the wrong path."

"No, Monsieur; that first day we only bowed and parted, but the ghost
of his voice remained," and she sighed in comical self-pity.

"I see! You have first given me the overture and now the curtain is to
rise. Who opens the next scene?"

"Madame Blanc."

"My faith! This grows tragical. Blanc, the circumspect, the dowager's
most trusted companion. Has your stranger be