She vanished, laughing, through the curtains, and Maurice looked at Justinian, to see if he had espied any hidden meaning in his daughter’s words; but the face of the old Demarch was as expressionless as a mask, while the Count’s, bright with joy, betrayed the certainty he felt of receiving an answer in the affirmative to his proposal of marriage. Truly, women are queer creatures, as Dick had observed the previous day. And if Helena did not intend to marry Caliphronas, it was curious that she should thus raise up his hopes, only to dash them down again. Juliet, with her simile of a silk-gyved bird, trying to fly away, yet ever drawn back again by the detaining thread, is a typical woman, who scorns her lover, so that he departs angrily, yet, when she sees him leaving her, woos him back with tender words, only to repeat her former cruelty. Helena, in spite of her girlish simplicity, yet knew these two men were in love with her, and tortured the one and was kind to the other, turn and turn about, just as it suited her humor—why, it is impossible to say, unless the legend that every woman was once a cat be true, and they yet retain a sufficiency of the feline nature to make them love such cruel mouse play. Yesterday Helena said she disliked the Greek, now she roundly asserted she could refuse him nothing; and, whether she was in earnest or fun, there was no doubt that the Count was about to take her at her word, and ask her to become his wife. In spite of Crispin’s valiant efforts, the conversation languished after the departure of Helena, the Demarch being somewhat preoccupied, and Maurice too cross to talk; while Caliphronas, after replying mechanically for a time, finally went off in search of the lady he had made up his mind to marry. All the three men left at the table looked meaningly at one another, for they guessed the reason of his sudden exit, yet none of them made any reference to the affair, as it would be quite time enough to discuss it when Caliphronas was refused. Meanwhile, Caliphronas rushed onward to his fate, in utter ignorance of the real feelings which Helena entertained towards him, and found her leaning against one of the pillars in the court, listening to the singing of a nightingale, much in the same position she had occupied when first seen by Maurice, two months previous. She turned with a smile when the Greek entered the court, but he held up his hand for her to keep silence, and both of them for some time continued to listen to the delicious music. The passionate song of the distant bird flooding the warm night with melody, the thin, pale light of the moon pouring in white radiance on the white marble court, the intoxicating perfume of the flowers around, and the delicate noise of the falling fountain, all thrilled the heart of the impressionable Greek with a sensuous feeling of delight, and stretching out his hand gently, he laid it lightly on the bare arm of the girl he loved.