"That accounts for everything," she said, lifting her pretty shoulders with a slight shrug of weariness. "I had to put a step to George's talking about ME three months ago,--his extravagance is something TOO awful. And the colonel, who is completely in his hands,--trusting him for everything, even the language,--doesn't see it." "But he is extravagant in the praise of his friends only, and you certainly justify all he can say." She was taking off her hat, and stopped for a moment to look at him thoughtfully, with the soft tendrils of her hair clinging to her forehead. "Did the colonel talk much about me?" "A great deal. In fact, I think we talked of nothing else. He has told me of your triumphs and your victims; of your various campaigns and your conquests. And yet I dare say he has not told me all--and I am dying to hear more." She had laid down her hat and unloosed a large bow of her mantle, but stopped suddenly in the midst of it and sat down again. "I wish you'd do something for me." "You have only to name it." "Well, drop all this kind of talk! Try to think of me as if I had just come from California--or, better, as if you had never known anything of me at all--and we met for the first time. You could, I dare say, make yourself very agreeable to such a young lady who was willing to be pleased--why not to me? I venture to say you have not ever troubled yourself about me since we last met. No--hear me through--why, then, should you wish to talk over what didn't concern you at the time? Promise me you will stop this reminiscent gossip, and I promise you I will not only not bore you with it, but take care that it is not intruded upon you by others. Make yourself pleasant to me by talking about yourself and your prospects--anything but ME--and I will throw over those princes and barons that the colonel has raved about and devote myself to you while you are here. Does that suit your Excellency?" She had crossed her knees, and, with her hands clasped over them, and the toe of her small boot advanced beyond her skirt, leaned forward in the attitude he remembered to have seen her take in the summer-house at Rosario. "Perfectly," he said. "How long will you be here?" "About three weeks: that, I believe, is the time allotted for my cure." "Are you really ill," she said quietly, "or imagine yourself so?" "It amounts to about the same thing. But my cure may not take so long," he added, fixing his bright eyes upon her. She returned his gaze thoughtfully, and they remained looking at each other silently.