I was not surprised at this decision on his part. Indeed, I had expected it with confidence. "You will not reconsider?" I asked nonchalantly. "Jamais de la vie!" "Then the duel is off." Paolo swore. I smiled; but he did not see the smile. I was careful that he should not. "I consider that you and your principal have taken an unfair advantage." "That is between you and me. If you care to raise the question----" "I have no quarrel with you." "Then you and Mr. Laurence must treat the misunderstanding of this evening as if it had not been. This will not be difficult, as he will go with me on an excursion to-morrow, now that his--er--engagement with you is off; and the day after, he and I think of leaving Aix altogether, by way of Mont Revard." This plan arranged itself spontaneously; but as the Boy had ungallantly called Gaetà "a little cat," and I was slightly _blasé_ of her dimples, I thought that I might count upon its being carried out. "What--he will go away?" exclaimed Paolo, all at once a different man. "He will leave Aix altogether, you say?" "Yes. You see, we are on our way south. Mr. Laurence merely wanted a glance at Aix _en route_, and the Contessa was kind enough to invite him to her house. It was really nice of her, as he is such a boy." "You think so? Yes--perhaps. Well, I consent on these terms to forget. You may tell your principal what I have said." "I will," I returned. "He will be guided by me, and forget also; though I assure you, like most of his countrymen, he is a fire-eater--a fire-eater." This time it was Paolo who volunteered to shake hands. [Illustration] CHAPTER XXIII There is No Such Girl "She has forgotten my kisses, and I--have forgotten her name."--A.C. SWINBURNE. I went early in the morning to the villa with the intention of culling the Boy like a wayside flower, and carrying him off to the lake. The hour was unearthly for a morning call, and the windows were still asleep, but I was spared the necessity of raising the echoes with an untimely peal of the bell. Under the red umbrella lounged the Boy, reading with the appearance, at least, of nonchalance. For all he could tell, I might have failed in my mission, and have come to announce the hour fixed for deadly combat; but he was not even pale. Indeed, I had never seen him rosier, or brighter-eyed. I sat down on the rustic seat beside him, and with a glance at the veiled windows of the villa, I remarked in a low voice, "It's all right." "That goes without saying." "Why?" "Because you promised." "Thanks for the compliment. Have you had your _café au lait_?" "No. I got up early, and thought of walking round to your hotel to see you, but decided I wouldn't." "I half expected you." "I didn't want to seem too--importunate. I hoped you'd come here."