"Good morning, mademoiselle," he said gravely. "Mars is a strong attraction. I knew I should presently find you here--so when I caught sight of your spiritual outline across the garden, I came and--waited." "He is most splendid-looking, is he not," Stella returned, trying to suppress the sudden tingle of pleasure that was thrilling her, "and look how much character there is in his hands." "Shall we go and study the others, or shall we find a bench in the garden and sit down and talk?" Count Roumovski asked serenely, and then smiled to himself as he noticed his companion's apprehensive glance in the direction where, far away, Martha dozed in peace. "It would be nice out of doors--but--" and Stella faltered. "Do not let us be deprived of pleasure by any buts--there is one out there who will warn us when your maid wakes. See--" and he advanced toward the entrance door, "there is a bench by that rose tree where we can be comparatively alone." Stella struggled no more with herself. After all, it was her last chance--Eustace Medlicott's train got in at five o'clock! She had a sense of security, too, the complete serenity of her companion inspired confidence. She almost felt she would not care if Aunt Caroline herself slept instead of the elderly maid. There was some slight change in Count Roumovski's manner to-day--he kept his eyes fixed upon her face, and the things he said were less abstract and more personal. After an entrancing half hour she felt she had seen vivid pictures of his land and his home. But he was a great traveler it appeared, and had not been there often in later years. "It is so agreeable to let the body move from place to place, and remain in a peaceful aloofness of the spirit all the time," he said at last. "To watch all the rushing currents which dominate human beings when they do not know how to manipulate them. If they did, the millennium would come,--but, meanwhile, it is reserved for the few who have learned them to enjoy this present plane we are on." "You mean you can control events and shape your life as you please, then?" Stella asked surprised, while she raised her sweet shy eyes to his inquiringly. "I wish I knew how!" "Shall I try to teach you, mademoiselle?" he said. "Yes, indeed." "Then you must not look down all the time, even though the contemplation of your long eyelashes gives me a pleasure--I would prefer the eyes themselves--the eyes are the indication of what is passing in the soul, and I would study this moving panorama." Stella's color deepened, but she met his blue orbs without flinching--so he went on: