“Is it because you have stolen the Marquis du Trémigon’s clothes?—for I believe, if I am not mistaken, they are his.” “Your observation does you infinite credit, Mademoiselle.” “I thought so. Is it for that reason you are masquerading as a thief?” “Because I have come here without regard to clothes to—” I protested. “To take my jewels?” she interrupted. “Mademoiselle!” I cried, starting back, the blood flaming in my face again. “You think——” “I think nothing, Monsieur. I discover a strange man in my apartments at night. He says that he is masquerading as a thief. What else am I to infer?” I was dumb before her merciless logic. “Mademoiselle,” I began desperately, “I deeply regret——” “So, too, do I. I knew—at least I thought I knew, on that day, the day you did me such brave service—that you were a gentleman, in spite of what you wore, yet—well, I see I was deceived.” “Don’t say that!” I protested again. “Why not, Monsieur?” “Mademoiselle, I am here in defiance of every rule of propriety, I will admit. You may well think me a thief,” I began, with passionate haste, “but I am only following your example.” “How, sir?” she exclaimed. “You, too, are not guiltless of robbery.” “What do you mean?” she asked, indignantly drawing herself up. Oh, how magnificent she looked! I wanted to throw myself at her feet and confess everything, but I did not—then. “You have stolen my heart, Mademoiselle.” “And you came to look for it in my jewel-case?” She laughed somewhat contemptuously. “I have come for yours in exchange,” said I; although I had a neat opening in her question, I judged it best to let it pass. “Monsieur!” “I am a poor sailor, Mademoiselle, but I have sought you throughout the land. I babbled everywhere as I ran of blue eyes, dark hair, a witching face. I found you—nowhere!” There was a ring of truth in these words—although of course it did not explain my presence there—that I believe influenced her. “’Tis impossible, Monsieur—” she began at last. “Look into the glass, Mademoiselle, and see how believable it is,” I broke in. “That you should have come here on such an errand and——” “I would go to the end of the world if I might find you there, Mademoiselle,” I boldly said, taking a step nearer to her. “Monsieur!” she cried, clutching the bell-rope once more. “Pray keep your distance.” “I am content merely to look at you,” I said, stopping short instantly. “Monsieur, on your word of honor as a—” She paused. “As a thief?” I questioned. “As a gentleman,” she said softly, and I could have kissed her feet for that. “Did you come here for me?” “Mademoiselle,” I said, “it is a long story. You have honored me by your conversation. You found something gentle in me on the road and in spite of appearances—that are so grievously against me now—you have reposed a certain degree of confidence in me. Will you allow me to tell you briefly who and what I am?” “I am anxious to learn it.”