"I have always trusted Fortune," he would say, "and to me she is not fickle." "Who would be fickle if your Excellency were pleased to trust her?" the signorina would respond, with a glance of almost fond admiration. This sort of thing did not please McGregor. He made no concealment of the fact that he claimed the foremost place among the signorina's admirers, utterly declining to make way even for the President. The latter took his boorishness very quietly; and I could not avoid the conclusion that the President held, or thought he held, the trumps. I was, naturally, intensely jealous of both these great men, and, although I had no cause to complain of my treatment, I could not stifle some resentment at the idea that I was, after all, an outsider and not allowed a part in the real drama that was going on. My happiness was further damped by the fact that luck ran steadily against me, and I saw my bonus dwindling very rapidly. I suppose I may as well be frank, and confess that my bonus, to speak strictly, vanished within six months after I first set foot in "Mon Repos," and I found it necessary to make that temporary use of the "interest fund," which the President had indicated as open to me under the terms of our bargain. However, my uneasiness on this score was lightened when the next installment of interest was punctually paid, and, with youthful confidence, I made little doubt that luck would turn before long. Thus time passed on, and the beginning of 1884 found us all leading an apparently merry and untroubled life. In public affairs the temper was very different. The scarcity of money was intense, and serious murmuring had arises when the President "squandered" his ready money in buying interest, leaving his civil servants and soldiers unpaid. This was the topic of much discussion in the press at the time, when I went up one March evening to the signorina's. I had been detained at the bank, and found the play in full swing when I came in. The signorina was taking no part in it, but sat by herself on a low lounge by the veranda window. I went up to her and made my bow. "You spare us but little of your time, Mr. Martin," she said. "Ah, but you have all my thoughts," I replied, for she was looking charming. "I don't care so much about your thoughts," she said. Then, after a pause, she went on, "It's very hot here, come into the conservatory." It almost looked as though she had been waiting for me, and I followed in high delight into the long, narrow glass house running parallel to the _salon_. High green plants hid us from the view of those inside, and we only heard distinctly his Excellency's voice, saying with much geniality to the colonel, "Well, you must be lucky in love, colonel," from which I concluded that the colonel was not in the vein at cards. The signorina smiled slightly as she heard; then she plucked a white rose, turned round, and stood facing me, slightly flushed as though with some inner excitement.