“It’s made my heart thump, Caleb. Only feel how fast it beats.” The young man snatched his hand away from her. “Hussy! Nought would please you so well as to lead me on into sin.” It was Caleb’s heart that was beating now, so fast indeed that he turned in desperation to strike down the puppet that seemed to be leering at him like an old bawd in a dark entry. “Oh, you sicken me,” she pouted. “I’ll surely never have the courage to mount to the top of the mast now. At least, I won’t unless I have some champagne, Caleb.” There was no answer. “Did you hear me, Caleb?” she pressed softly. “I said champagne.” He turned his back and feigned not to hear. But a passing waiter heard and came into the alcove, rubbing his hands in anticipation of serving them. “Champagne, Caleb.” “Yes, ma’am. Certainly, ma’am.” “No,” Caleb shouted. The waiter inclined his head in sarcastic acknowledgment. “And light the lamp,” Caleb told him. Above the circular stone hung a great green globe painted over with fish, which when lighted up shed a kind of subaqueous sheen upon the alcove. “And the champagne, sir?” the waiter asked. “Bring a bottle quickly,” Letizia commanded with a laugh of mockery. “Bring nothing at all,” cried Caleb, swinging round on his heels in a rage. “Oh gemini, Caleb,” Letizia cried. “Your handkerchief’s falling out of your pocket.” She grabbed at it, and pulled out the tail of his shirt. Letizia flung herself into a chair, clapping her hands and throwing her legs into the air in a very ecstasy of delight. “Oh gemini, Mr. Waiter; bring two bottles,” she cried. “And a needle and a thread, for I’ll burst my own trunks next and never dare stand on a chair, let alone come sliding down to the ground from a mast.” The waiter departed to obey her commands, a wide grin on his insolent face. “Listen to me, Letizia,” Caleb cried in a rage, seizing her wrist. “I’ll pay for not one drop of champagne, d’ye hear me? Little Jezebel that you are! You love to make me suffer for your wantonness. I was pure till your Popish gipsy eyes crossed mine and turned them to thoughts of sin. Isn’t it enough that you’re going to mount that accursed firework platform for every gay young sprig to stare at you carnally and gloat on your limbs and lust after you? Isn’t it enough, I say, for one evening?” “You’re a fine one to accuse me of making myself a show,” she retorted, wresting herself from his grasp. “And you with the tail of your shirt sticking out of your breeches! You’d better call it your flag of truce, Caleb, and cry peace.” “I’ll make no peace with you, young Jezebel, in this wanton humour.” “Why then, catch me if you can, Mr. Preacher, for I’ll have my champagne, and Mr. Devil can pay for it, if you won’t.” With this she stood mocking him from the lawn outside. “Come back,” he groaned, the sweat all beady on his forehead. “I won’t come back neither,” laughed Letizia, pirouetting. “Pull your cloak round you, shameless minx.”