Running his fingers over the piano keys, he clashed into a disturbing medley, Chopin, Stravinsky, Mendelssohn and Sowerby, Ornstein and Tchaikowsky, with a dash of MacDowell as leaven. The audience howled approbation. "What do you call it?" He looked up demurely from the keys. "The Petrovskey Blues!" He broke into a revised version of the popular negro melody, transforming its plaintive simplicity into symphonic proportions. Then with a swift transition, he began to ragtime an old Italian opera. With a broad smile, Del Re strode to the piano and sang an accompaniment, in the nasal drone of the cabaret favorite. Negroid and scintillating, the parody ceased upon a plaintive chord, reminiscent of some southern spiritual. Listeners crowded about the piano, jaded senses stirred to the shallow depths. From the background, Anne watched in fascinated silence. She did not dream Alexis had it in him, and as she looked at the flushed face an undercurrent of apprehension flowed like an icy stream below the surface of her pleasure. What could have excited him so to-night that he had ventured forth from his shell with such uncharacteristic fireworks? At Anne's elbow, Caldenas grunted appreciatively. He was putting the last touches to a caricature of the two celebrities at the piano, which, as he quaintly put it, would immortalize their genius as well as his own. The little Roumanian leaned over Alexis. Her perfume weighed on his irritated nerves, nauseatingly heavy. "When are you coming to see me?" He laughed loudly. His eyes stripped her. "Never!" She flushed and bit her naturally red lips. "You are detestable. I am mad about you," she whispered. "You are maddeningly pretty, but I am immune," he retorted, smiling up into the flower-like face with curved, saturnine lips. She rested her hand upon the keyboard next to his. "Your music makes me feel positively wanton!" The blue eyes swam amorously. He flung her hand away, with casual fingers. His glance rent her unmercifully. "You are wasting your time!" She crumbled as if struck by lightning. Tears of mortification rose to the lovely eyes. She stammered in utter rout, "You are a fiend!" He rose from the piano and looked about him smilingly. "The end of a perfect day," he remarked in a loud voice. He shook hands with Del Re and retreated towards Anne. With meaning looks the group began to break up. Their guard of honor ranged about them, Ellen and Olive flitted away to the accompaniment of knowing smiles. An obscure and taciturn husband was claimed by the authoress and led triumphantly home. The countess, a little pale, accepted the escort of Gerald and Caldenas. Alexis waited flagrantly, while Del Re completed ceremonious adieus. As the door closed upon them all, Anne turned towards Alexis with an inquiring, slightly apprehensive air. "Are you going to stay, Alexis? It is very late."