She laughed again and sat down in her former place near me, regarding me with a frankly open and half humorous gaze which I found I could not meet with any sort of composure. To say I felt foolish, would inadequately express my sense of utter bafflement. This woman with her young unclouded face, sweet voice and evidently happy nature, was not at all the creature I had imagined her to be,--and I struggled to say something,--anything,--that would furnish a reasonable and coherent answer. I caught Lucio's glance,--one of satirical amusement,--and my thoughts grew more entangled than ever. A distraction however occurred in the behaviour of the dog Tricksy, who suddenly took up a position immediately opposite Lucio, and lifting his nose in air began to howl with a desolate loudness astonishing in so small an animal. His mistress was surprised. "Tricksy, what _is_ the matter?" she exclaimed, catching him up in her arms where he hid his face shivering and moaning;--then she looked steadily at Lucio--"I never knew him do such a thing before"--she said--"Perhaps you do not like dogs, Prince Rimânez?" "I am afraid they do not like _me_!" he replied, deferentially. "Then pray excuse me a moment!" she murmured, and left the room, to return immediately without her canine favorite. After this I noticed that her blue eyes often rested on Lucio's handsome countenance with a bewildered and perplexed expression, as if she saw something in his very beauty that she disliked or distrusted. Meanwhile I had recovered a little of my usual self-possession, and I addressed her in a tone which I meant to be kind, but which I knew was somewhat patronizing. "I am very glad, Miss Clare, that you were not offended at the article you speak of. It was rather strong I admit,--but you know we cannot all be of the same opinion ..."