"Well," marvelled she, "here is a surprise--here is a volte-face indeed." And she looked at the city in the sky, and appeared to turn things over. John was mysteriously chuckling. "Haven't you your opinion," he asked, "of men who eat their words and put their scruples in their pockets?" "I don't understand," said she, looking wild. "There is, of course, some joke." "There is a joke, indeed," said he; "the joke is that I'm ten times richer than I told you I was." She started back, and fixed him with a glance. "Then all that about your being poor was only humbug?" There was reproach in her voice, I'm not sure there wasn't disappointment. "No," said he, "it was the exact and literal truth. But I have come into a modest competency over-night." "I don't understand," said she. "My own part in the story is a sufficiently inglorious one," said he. "I'm the benefactee. Lady Blanchemain and my uncle have put their heads together, and endowed me. I feel rather small at letting them, but it enables me to look my affianced boldly in the money-eye." "Oh? You are affianced? Already?" she asked gaily. "No--not unless you are," gaily answered John. She looked down at her ring. VII The quiet-coloured end of evening smiled fainter, fainter. The aerial city, its cloud-capped towers and gorgeous palaces, had crumbled into ruins, and stars twinkled among their shattered and darkened walls. The moon burned icily above the eastern hills. The nightingales (or John was no true prophet) sang better than they had ever sung before, while bats, hither, thither, flew in startling zig-zags, as if waltzing to the music. And all the air was sweet with the breath of dew-wet roses. The clock struck eight. "There--you must go," said Maria Dolores. "Go? Where to?" asked John, feigning vagueness. "This is no subject for jest," said she, feigning severity. "I can't go yet--I can't leave you yet," said he. "Besides, it is an education in æsthetics to watch the moonlight on these marble columns, and the pale shadows of the vine-leaves." "Well, then," said she, "stay you here and pursue your education. I will go in your place. For Marcella Cuciniera must be relieved." She rose, and moved towards the darkling front of the Castle. "Hang education! I'll go with you," said John, following. "I shall only stop a moment, to see how she is," said Maria Dolores. "Then I must hurry home, to get my packing begun." "Your packing?" faltered John. "To-morrow morning Frau Brandt and I are leaving for Austria--for Schloss Mischenau, where my brother lives." "Good Lord!" said John. "Ah, well, I suppose it is what they would call the proper course," he admitted with gloomy resignation. "But think how dreadfully you'll be missed--by Annunziata."