Leah's eyes rested appreciatively on the varied beauty of God's work and man's improvements. The huddled white houses of Monaco crowned its giant rock, which bulked hugely against the blended azure of sea and sky. The placid waters ringed its base with foam, and stretched with sparks and dashes of fire towards an immeasurable horizon. Landward bunched the red roofs of the town, below arid and precipitous heights, soaring massively into the radiant and ever-deepening blue. A balmy wind, like some invisible alchemist, changed the sombre green of the olive-groves to patches of glittering silver. Near at hand spread the lustrous foliage of lemon- and orange-trees, nor was wanting the almond-blossom of the far east. They walked under palms suggestive of Bedouin life, and, to the well-read, of Heine's sad little song, immortal and heart-rendingly true. Roses and violets, and flowers of many shapes and hues, bordered the terrace; the wide sea laughed at their feet, and behind them rose the palatial structure of the Casino, gorgeous as the Golden House of Nero. It was Fairyland, and Lady Jim said so to her sad companion, who was too blinded by love to see beauty anywhere when the beloved was absent. "We can talk in French, if you like," said Leah, after she had paid her tribute to nature. "In English, I think," replied the Russian girl; "my father wishes me to speak only your tongue, while we remain in London, so that I may improve." "You can't," answered Leah, genuinely complimentary. "Your accent is much better than a born English person; also your grammar, and your choice of words." "We take the trouble to learn your language, whereas you English do not." "We're too busy annexing the world to bother about philological lessons," said Lady Jim, remembering Heine's remark anent the Romans. "Possibly," assented Katinka, with a chilling smile; "but, interesting as this conversation is, I do not see its necessity." "Monsieur Demetrius," began Leah, abruptly, when Mademoiselle raised a protesting hand. "We need not speak of him, madame." "Why not? He is a mutual friend. I know you fancy----" "I fancy nothing," interrupted the other, haughtily. "Words are not needed where he is concerned." "But explanations are. You think that I love Demetrius!" Katinka flushed painfully, and she put her hand suddenly to her throat. "I forbid you to speak," she said, in a stifled voice. "Nonsense. We are not in Russia, where people kneel down and say please. Besides, it is necessary for your peace of mind that you should hear what I have to say." "You made that remark before, Lady James." "True, and I make it again, to emphasise my meaning, though I hate repetition. Demetrius loves you." "No, no! It is you who----" "Pish! His heart is yours; his science mine." "His science!" Mademoiselle Aksakoff looked surprised. "What else do you think attracted me? I am an English cat, and I have no lovers. Do you remember La Fontaine's fable?"