"I believe you are what the novels call an advanced young woman," he said. "Perhaps you give lectures on Woman’s Suffrage or something of that sort." "I have very often mounted the platform," she answered. "In fact, I am never so happy as when addressing an immense audience. A most unfeminine thing to do, isn’t it? What would the lady yonder in the horse-cloth dress and billy-cock hat say? Don’t you think you ought to go and help her drive away the goat? She looks so frightened. She interests me deeply. I wonder whether she has written an essay on the Feminine in Woman. I should like to read it; it would do me so much good." "You are at least a true woman," he said, laughing, "for I see you can be spiteful. The tuning has not driven that away." "Ah, I had forgotten about the tuning," she answered brightly; "but now you remind me, I have been seized with a great idea." "Won’t you tell it to me?" he asked. "No," she answered. "I keep my great ideas for myself, and work them out in secret. And this one is particularly amusing. What fun I shall have!" "But why keep the fun to yourself?" he said. "We all want to be amused here; we all want to be stirred up; a little fun would be a charity." "Very well, since you wish it, but you must give me time to work out my great idea. I do not hurry about things, not even about my professional duties. For I have a strong feeling that it is vulgar to be always amassing riches! As I have neither a husband nor a brother to support, I have chosen less wealth, and more leisure to enjoy all the loveliness of life! So you see I take my time about everything. And to-morrow I shall catch butterflies at my leisure, and lie among the dear old pines, and work at my great idea." "I shall catch butterflies," said her companion. "And I too shall lie among the dear old pines." "Just as you please," she said; and at that moment the table d’hôte bell rang. The little girl hastened to the bureau and spoke rapidly in German to the cashier. "Ach, Fräulein!" he said. "You are not really serious?" "Yes, I am," she said. "I don’t want them to know my name. It will only worry me. Say I am the young lady who tuned the piano." She had scarcely given these directions and mounted to her room, when Oswald Everard, who was much interested in his mysterious companion, came to the bureau and asked for the name of the little lady. "Es ist das Fräulein welches das Piano gestimmt hat," answered the man, returning with unusual quickness to his account-book.