He obeyed. Mr. Hamilton took Ella. Mr. Dalrymple followed with Lesbia. He had been very attentive to her since their arrival at Groschenheim. Tonight he was more than attentive; he was tender.

He was determined to let Ella see that he was not wearing the willow on her account, and that loveliness demanded its tribute as well as wealth. But he remembered also Captain Dobree's marked admiration of Lesbia, and, knowing that he was expected, he thought it behoved him to make the best use of his time. He said a few soft words to Lesbia in a tone that made her heart beat painfully. He held her hand in his with a lingering pressure as he bade her good-night. He stood bare-headed under the colonnade as the carriage drove away, and it must be confessed that a more noble-looking gentle

man one could scarcely have seen. So thought Lesbia, and so also thought Mr. Hamilton.

As Stephen Dalrymple turned to go into the building again he brushed against Frank, whose eyes were moody, and whose heart was full of wrath. Dalrymple nodded carelessly to the young man, and went his way. Two minutes later, Frank, standing in a recess, heard the Grand Duke say to Dalrymple, "Your British Juno will be the means of putting Prince Philip into a hospital for incurables. Elle est magnifique; but too cold, too pale, too statuesque for my taste. One could as soon make love to the Commandant in 'Don Juan.' The other girl is heavenly, and yet not too heavenly, not too vaporous, diaphanous; flesh and blood; warmth and life; the bloom of the peach. I think we enjoy a peach for its bloom as much as

for its luscious juiciness. What do you say, eh? You're not a bad judge in such matters."

'A rosebud set with little wilful thorns,
And sweet as English air could make her.'"

"Don't talk poetry to the Grand Duke," said the Grand Duchess, who was a good linguist, coming up to them: "he doesn't understand it. And above all, don't talk English poetry; it's all hissing and spluttering." And she passed on.

"Apropos," said the Duke, "what of Mademoiselle Rita? Fancy-that girl's name is Grethel, and her father was a swineherd out at Rosenberg" (the Duke's summer residence).

"She has sprained her ankle, and won't be able to dance for a month," replied Dalrymple.

Frank, gnashing his teeth, heard all this, and would have liked to have done both the Grand Duke and Dalrymple a mischief. But he only sauntered away into the public gambling rooms, and played wildly at rouge-et-noir, until the cry of "Messieurs, faites votre jeu; rien ne va plus; rouge gagne et couleur," ceased altogether, and gambling Groschenheim retired for the night.

CHAPTER XVIII.

A PROPOSAL.

FRANK HAMILTON followed Lesbia about like her shadow, but he seldom had the chance of being alone with her; when he had, he made use of the rare moments to say words which Lesbia dared not answer, and was too womanly to resent. By dint of pitying Frank with all her generous young heart, she had almost come to love him; and yet, it is not the less true that his presence poisoned every pleasure to her. She felt afraid of exasperating him by her laughter, and her manner became timid and constrained in his presence, which exasperated him even more than her open gaiety and lightheartedness could have done.