"Now we will read fairy-tales, Paul." But Paul was too moved to speak. These rapid changes were too much for him, greatly advanced though he had become in these short days since he had known her. He leant back in his chair, every nerve in his body quivering, his young fresh face almost pale. "Paul," she cooed plaintively, "to-morrow I shall be reasonable again, perhaps, and human, but to-day I am capricious and wayward, and mustn't be teased. I want to read about Cupid and Psyche from this wonderful 'Golden Ass' of Apuleius--just a simple tale for a wet day--and you and--me!" "Read then!" said Paul, resigned. And she commenced in Latin, in a chanting, tender voice. Paul had forgotten most of the Latin he knew, but he remembered enough to be aware that this must be as easy as English to her as it flowed along in a rich rhythmic sound. It soothed him. He seemed to be dreaming of flowery lands and running streams. After a while she looked up again, and then with one of her sudden movements like a graceful cat, she was beside him leaning from the back of his chair. "Paul!" she whispered right in his ear, "am I being wicked for you to-day? I cannot help it. The devil is in me--and now I must sing." "Sing then!" said Paul, maddened with again arising emotion. She seized a guitar that lay near, and began in a soft voice in some language he knew not--a cadence of melody he had never heard, but one whose notes made strange quivers all up his spine. An exquisite pleasure of sound that was almost pain. And when he felt he could bear no more, she flung the instrument aside, and leant over his chair again--caressing his curls with her dainty fingers, and purring unknown strange words in his ear. Paul was young and unlearned in many things. He was completely enthralled and under her dominion--but he was naturally no weakling of body or mind. And this was more than he could stand. "_You_ mustn't be teased. My God! it is you who are maddening me!" he cried, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Do you think I am a statue, or a table, or chair--or inanimate like that tiger there? I am not, I tell you!" and he seized her in his arms, raining kisses upon her which, whatever they lacked in subtlety, made up for in their passion and strength. "Some day some man will kill you, I suppose, but I shall be your lover--first!" The lady gasped. She looked up at him in bewildered surprise, as a child might do who sets a light to a whole box of matches in play. What a naughty, naughty toy to burn so quickly for such a little strike! But Paul's young, strong arms held her close, she could not struggle or move. Then she laughed a laugh of pure glad joy. "Beautiful, savage Paul," she whispered. "Do you love me? Tell me that?" "Love you!" he said. "Good God! Love you! Madly, and you know it, darling Queen."