He was in no more satisfactory frame of mind when, on the next afternoon, he shouldered his gun and set out for the country. He went directly to the fairy pool, and waited there in a very fever of anxiety. Despite the coolness and peace of the place, he felt his pulses throb and his face burn. If she came, it would mean everything to him. If she stayed away-why, then he would have to believe that, after all, the real Gertrudis Garavel had spoken last night at the opera, and that the sprightly, mirthful little maid who had bewitched him on their first meeting no longer existed. An odd bashfulness overtook him. It did not seem to him that it could possibly have been he who had talked to her so boldly only the evening before. At the thought of his temerity he felt almost inclined to flee, yet he would not have deserted his post for worlds. The sound of a voice shot through his troubled thoughts like a beam of sunlight through a dark room. "Oh, Senor Antonio! How you startled me!" Instantly his self-possession came back. He felt relieved and gay. "Good-afternoon, queen!" He rose and bowed politely. "I thought I saw one underneath the waterfall just now." "Who would have expected you to be here?" she cried, with an extreme and obviously counterfeit amazement that filled him with delight. "I'm lost," he declared; then, after one look into her eyes, he added, "Absolutely, utterly, irretrievably lost." "It is very fortunate that I chanced to be passing, for this is a lonely spot; nobody ever comes here." "Well, I hardly ever lose myself in busy places. Won't you sit down?" "Since we have met quite by accident, perhaps it would not be so very improper," She laughed mischievously. "You know I've been lost now for several months. It's a delightful feeling-you ought to try it." She settled uncertainly beside him like a butterfly just alighting, ready to take flight again, on the instant. "Perhaps I can help you to find your way, senor?" she said, with ingenuous politeness. "You are the only one who can, Miss Garavel. I don't know that I ever told you, but I'm in love." "Indeed?" "I am the most miserably happy person in the world, for I have just this moment begun to believe that the young lady likes me a little bit." "Oh! But I forgot the real reason why I came. I have something I must tell you." "All right. But honestly now, didn't you WANT to come?" She turned upon him in a little burst of passion. "Yes!" she cried. "Of course I did! I wished to come, madly, senor. There is no use to lie. But wait! It is wholly because I am a-what you call fleert-a very sad fleert." No one could possibly describe the quaint pronunciation she gave the word. "It makes my heart patter, like that"--she made her little fingers "patter"-"to be wooed even by a Yankee. But I do not love you in the least. Oh no! Even if I wished to do so, there are too many reasons why I could not, and when I explain you will understand."