“But we shall not talk of _me!_ Let us see how we can keep you out of mischief at leas' for a little while. I know very well what you will do to-night: you will go to Salone Margherita an' sit in a box like all the wicked Americans--” “No, indeed, I shall not!” “Ah, yes, you will!” she laughed. “But until dinner let me keep you from wickedness. Come to tea jus' wiz me, not at the hotel, but at the little apartment I have taken, where it is quiet. The music is finish', an' all those pretty girl' are goin' away, you see. I am not selfish if I take you from the Pincio now. You will come?” III. Glamour It was some fair dream that would be gone too soon, he told himself, as they drove rapidly through the twilight streets, down from the Pincio and up the long slope of the Quirinal. They came to a stop in the gray courtyard of a palazzo, and ascended in a sleepy elevator to the fifth floor. Emerging, they encountered a tall man who was turning away from the Countess' door, which he had just closed. The landing was not lighted, and for a moment he failed to see the American following Madame de Vaurigard. “Eow, it's you, is it,” he said informally. “Waitin' a devil of a long time for you. I've gawt a message for you. _He's_ comin'. He writes that Cooley--” _“Attention!”_ she interrupted under her breath, and, stepping forward quickly, touched the bell. “I have brought a frien' of our dear, droll Cooley with me to tea. Monsieur Mellin, you mus' make acquaintance with Monsieur Sneyd. He is English, but we shall forgive him because he is a such ole frien' of mine.” “Ah, yes,” said Mellin. “Remember seeing you on the boat, running across the pond.” “Yes, ev coss,” responded Mr. Sneyd cordially. “I wawsn't so fawchnit as to meet you, but dyuh eold Cooley's talked ev you often. Heop I sh'll see maw of you hyuh.” A very trim, very intelligent-looking maid opened the door, and the two men followed Madame de Vaurigard into a square hall, hung with tapestries and lit by two candles of a Brobdingnagian species Mellin had heretofore seen only in cathedrals. Here Mr. Sneyd paused. “I weon't be bawthring you,” he said. “Just a wad with you, Cantess, and I'm off.” The intelligent-looking maid drew back some heavy curtains leading to a salon beyond the hall, and her mistress smiled brightly at Mellin. “I shall keep him to jus' his one word,” she said, as the young man passed between the curtains.