“Major in Romero’s foot!” gasps Guy, who, during this speech, has been gazing at her in a dazed, startled way. “Yes, I took the muster-roll of the regiment myself, and saw that Captain was altered to Major.” “The muster-roll!” murmurs Chester, not believing his ears. “Yes, there are duplicates at the Citadel.” “The muster-rolls at the Citadel,” he stammers, stunned by surprise. Then suddenly it flashes through him that amazement will betray him, that gratitude is the only way he can receive this astounding communication; a gratitude that is very pleasant to him. Taking advantage of the young lady’s position, for she has extended a hand toward him in happy, gracious gesture, he imprints one kiss of obligation upon it and two more of rapturous love, and Miss Brunette’s lilies become roses. This is effected without undue publicity, as Oliver has taken the fair Mina into the next room, and is whispering into her ear: “Look in Doña Hermoine’s eyes. Don’t you see a request, you foolish girl? She saved you from the embarrassment of the dance; do something for her. Please your father. Go in and be a saleswoman. Show the Countess de Pariza every bargain in your store. Furthermore, make them bargains. Cut the price of everything in half.” “Cut prices one-half! Great heavens, my father!” “I’ll pay the balance, or rather Captain Amati will.” “Oh, I see,” laughs the girl. “But what will her father, the awful Duke, say?” “He’ll never know if you give Countess de Pariza bargains enough to keep her busy. Do it—for me.” “Oh, you—!” For the painter has emphasized his “for me” by a lover’s salute. Thus urged, and catching Hermoine’s bright eyes with a request in them, Mina runs away under Oliver’s promptings to make a bargain counter of her father’s whole store, and to cut prices in such a way that would rouse the old Bodé Volcker to madness were he present; but fortunately Heer Bodé Volcker has gone down to the quay to see about the unloading of a ship. A minute later Oliver has sauntered to the extreme end of the great banqueting room. Though theoretically he is present, practically he sees nothing, hears nothing, and the daughter of the Viceroy and Guy Stanhope Chester are alone together. “You see,” says the young lady, archly, “I’ve been inquiring about you. Oh, don’t be afraid. No one knows that you are here—absent from duty. They wouldn’t have made you Major, perhaps, if they had. But it has been whispered to me that you are even more than Major Guido Amati. You are Major Guido Amati de Medina, son of Hernandez de Medina, once Viceroy of Hispaniola, and have sworn never to assume your exalted family name until you are a general, which you soon must be.” Then she cries out suddenly, clapping her hands, “Why, since you’re a Medina, you must be a cousin to the Duke of Medina Cœli.” “Only—only third cousin,” stammers Guy, who thinks his ears are playing him false, though he knows his eyes are doing very good work, indeed.