The Irishman and the maiden looked into each other's eyes an instant, as people will do when listening; but Pauline's immediately fell, and when Mazaro's words were understood, her blushes became visible even by moonlight. "He's r-right!" emphatically whispered Galahad. She attempted to draw back a step, but found herself against the shelves. M. D'Hemecourt had not answered. Mazaro spoke again. "Boat-a you canno' help-a, eh? I know, 'out-a she gettin' marry, eh?" Pauline trembled. Her father summoned all his force and rose as if to ask his questioner to leave him; but the handsome Cuban motioned him down with a gesture that seemed to beg for only a moment more. "Senor, if a-was one man whath lo-va you' thaughter, all is possiblee to lo-va." Pauline, nervously braiding some bits of wire which she had unconsciously taken from a shelf, glanced up--against her will,--into the eyes of Galahad. They were looking so steadily down upon her that with a great leap of the heart for joy she closed her own and half turned away. But Mazaro had not ceased. "All is possiblee to lo-va, Senor, you shouth-a let marry hore an' tak'n 'way frone d'these plaze, Senor." "Manuel Mazaro," said M. D'Hemecourt, again rising, "you 'ave say enough." "No, no, Senor; no, no; I want tell-a you--is a-one man--_whath lo-va_ you' thaughter; an' I _knowce_ him!" Was there no cause for quarrel, after all? Could it be that Mazaro was about to speak for Galahad? The old man asked in his simplicity: "Madjor Shaughnessy?" Mazaro smiled mockingly. "Mayor Shaughness'," he said; "oh, no; not Mayor Shaughness'!" Pauline could stay no longer; escape she must, though it be in Manuel Mazaro's very face. Turning again and looking up into Galahad's face in a great fright, she opened her lips to speak, but-- "Mayor Shaughness'," continued the Cuban; "_he_ nev'r-a lo-va you' thaughter." Galahad was putting the maiden back from the door with his hand. "Pauline," he said, "it's a lie!" "An', Senor," pursued the Cuban, "if a was possiblee you' thaughter to lo-va heem, a-wouth-a be worse-a kine in worlt; but, Senor, _I_"-- M. D'Hemecourt made a majestic sign for silence. He had resumed his chair, but be rose up once more, took the Cuban's hat from the table and tendered it to him. "Manuel Mazaro, you 'ave"-- "Senor, I goin' tell you"-- "Manuel Mazaro, you"-- "Boat-a Senor"-- "Bud, Manuel Maz"-- "Senor, escuse-a me"-- "Huzh!" cried the old man. "Manuel Mazaro, you ave deceive' me! You 'ave _mocque_ me, Manu"-- "Senor," cried Mazaro, "I swear-a to you that all-a what I sayin' ees-a"-- He stopped aghast. Galahad and Pauline stood before him. "Is what?" asked the blue-eyed man, with a look of quiet delight on his face, such as Mazaro instantly remembered to have seen on it one night when Galahad was being shot at in the Sucking Calf Restaurant in St. Peter Street. The table was between them, but Mazaro's hand went upward toward the back of his coat-collar.