The first face upon which his eyes fell as he was about to enter the ball-room was that of the stranger to whom his attention had been attracted as he went away. The young man was walking slowly from the room, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief trimmed with lace. Michel, puzzled by his conduct, and wondering if it were not a woman in disguise, resolutely accosted him. "Well, my friend," he said, "did you succeed in seeing Princess Agatha?" The stranger, who seemed absorbed by his thoughts, raised his head abruptly, and darted at Michel a glance instinct with such inexplicable distrust, and even malevolence, that the young painter felt a sort of cold shiver run down his back. It was not the glance of a woman, but of a forceful and hot-tempered man. The feeling of hostility is unfamiliar to youthful hearts, and Michel's contracted as with a sudden pang. It seemed to him that the stranger instinctively felt for a knife in his gold embroidered satin waistcoat, and he followed his movements with surprise. "How does it happen?" said the other, in the same soft voice, in marked contrast to his angry, threatening manner, "that you were a mechanic a short time ago, and that now you are a gentleman?" "The fact is that I am neither one nor the other," replied Michel, with a smile; "I am an artist employed in the palace. Do you feel more at ease? my question seems to have disturbed you greatly. However, one question deserves another. Did you not ask me one without knowing me?" "Do you mean to jest, signor?" retorted the stranger, who spoke in excellent Italian, without any accent to justify the Greek or Egyptian antecedents suggested by Barbagallo. "Not in the least," replied Michel, "and, as for my accosting you, pray pardon an impulsive exhibition of curiosity entirely free from malevolent intention." "Curiosity! why curiosity?" rejoined the unknown, clenching his teeth and crowding his words together in peculiarly Sicilian fashion. "Faith! I have no idea," replied Michel. "We have had enough discussion over a thoughtless word; I had no purpose of offending you. If your displeasure continues, do not look about for pretexts to begin a quarrel, for I have no intention of avoiding it." "Are not you the one who seeks to quarrel with me?" rejoined the stranger, with a glance more threatening than the first. "On my word, signor, you are mad," said Michel, with a shrug. "You are right," retorted the unknown, "for I stand here listening to the idle talk of a fool." The words had no sooner passed his lips than Michel rushed at him with a sudden determination to strike him. But, fearing lest he might strike a woman, for the stranger's sex still seemed to him very doubtful, he paused; and he congratulated himself when he saw that problematical personage turn upon his heel and vanish so quickly that Michel could not determine in what direction he had gone, and concluded that he had been dreaming again.