s ~ " * '• - I : r- ~ PaGR SEVEN CAPE ilAY STAB AND WAVE SATURDAY, 3XT>n 13, 1SIA

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"Well," with mock gravity, *1 shouldn't like to be the tiger that | crossed his path. Wild; that's the | word for it." "You are laughing. Ah, I know! I should say dissipated." "Courtlandt? Come, now. Celeste; does he look dissipated?" "No-o." "He drinks when he chooses, he flirts with a pretty woman when be chooses, he smokes the finest tobacco there Is when he chooses; and he gives them all up when he chooses. He Is like the seasons he comes and he goes, and nobody can change his habits." "He has had no affair?" "Why, Courtlandt hasn't any heartIt's a mechanical device to keep his blood In circulation; that's all. I am the most Intimate friend he has, and yet I know no more ;fian you how he lives and where he goes." She let her hand fall from his shoulder. She was glad that he did mot know. "Bat 'look !" she cried in warning. Abbott looked. A woman was coming serenely down the path from the wocded promontory, a woman undeniably handsome in a cedar-tinted linen dress, exquisitely fashioned, w ith -a touch of vivid scarlet on her hat and a most tantalising flash of scarlet ankle. It was Flora Deslmone, fresh from her morning bath and a substantial breakfast. The errand that had brought her from Alx-les-Balns was confessedly a merciful one. But she possessed the dramatist's Instinct to prolong a situation. Thus, to make her act of mercy seem Infinitely larger than It was, she was determined first to cast the Apple of Discord Into this charming corner of Eden. The Apple of Discord, as every man knows, is the only thing a woman can throw with any accuracy. The artist enatched up his brushes, and ruined the painting forthwith, for all time. The foreground was, in his opinion, beyond redemption; so, with a savage humor, be rapidly limned In a score of Impossible trees, turned midday into sunset, with a riot of colors which would have made the Chinese New Year In Canton a drab and sober event In comparison. He hated Flora Deslmone. as all Nora's adherents properly did, but with a hatred wholly reflective and adapted to Nora's moods. "You have spoiled It!" cried Celeste. She had watched the picture grow, and to see it ruthlessly destroyed this way hurt hen "How could you ! " "Worst I ever did." He began to change the whole effect, chuckling audibly as he worked. Sunset divided honors with- moonlight- It was no longer Incongruous; it was ridiculous. He leaned back and laughed. "I'm going to send It to L'Aslno, and call it an afterthought." "Give it to me." "What?" "Yea." "Nonsense! I'm going to touch a match to It. Ill give you that picture with the lavender In bloom." "I want this." "But you cannot hang it." "I want It." "Well!" The more he learned about women the farther out of mental reach they seemed to go. Why on earth did she want this execrable daub? "You may have It; but all the same, I'm going to call an oculist and have him examine your eyes." • "Why. it Is the Slgnorlna Fburnler!" In preparing studiously to Ignore Flora Deelmone's presence they had forgotten all about her. "Good morning, signer*." said Celeste In Italian. "And the S ignore Abbott, the painter, also!" The Calabrlan raised what she considered her most deadly weapon, her lorgnette. "What is It?" asked Flora, squinting. "It is a new style of the Impressionist which I began this morning," soberly. "It looks very natural," observed Flora. "Natural!" Abbott dropped his mahlstlck. "It Is Vesuv', Is It not, on a cloudy day?" This was too much for Abbott's gravity, and he laughed. "It was not necessary to spoil a good picture ... on my account," Bald Flora, closing the lorgnette with a snap. "The signora is wrong. I did not spoil it on her account. It was past helping yesterday. But I shall, however, rechrlsten it Vesuvius, since It represents an eruption of temper." Flora tapped the handle of her para- • sol with the lorgnette. It was distinctly a sign of approval. These Americans were never slow-witted. She swung the parasol to and fro, slowly, like a pendulum. "It is too bad." she said, her glance roving over the white walls of the villa. "It was Irrevocably lost," Abbott declared. "No, no; I do not mean the picture. I am thlnkjng of La_ Toecana. Her !

[ voice was really superb; and to lose it I I entirely,, . . . !" She waved a . | sympathetic hand. i Abbott was about to rise up ln'vlg- [ 1 orous protest. But fate Itself cbose j to -rebuke Flora. From the Vindow came — "Sal cos' ebbe cuore!" — sung ' as only Nora could sing It The ferrule of Flora Deslmone's , parasol bit deeply into the clover-turf. I , j "Am I all right?" asked Harrlgan. , Courtlandt nodded. "You look like a soldier In mufti, and more than that | like the gentleman that you naturally i i are," quite sincerely. I The ex-gladiator blushed. "This Is ! the reception-room. There's the ball- ( room right out there. The smoking- : | room Is on the other side. Now, how In the old Harry am I going to get across without killing some one?" 1 Courtlandt resisted the desire to laugh. "Supposing you let me pilot i you over?" "You're the referee. Ring the gong." "Come on, then." "What! While they are dancing?" ; backing away in dismay. The other caught him by the arm. "Come on." And in and out they went, hither j and thither, now dodging, now pausing to let the swirl pass, until at length I Harrlgan found himself safe on shore, | In the dim cool smoking-room. "I don't see how you did It." admiringly. "I'll drop in every little while to see 1 how you are getting on," volunteered Courtlandt. "You can sit by the door If you care to see them dance. I'm off to see Mrs. Harrlgan and tell her where you are. Here's a cigar." Harrigan turned the cigar over and over in his fingers, all the while gazing at the young man's diminishing back. He sighed. That would make him the happiest man In the world. He examined the carnelian band encircling the six Inches of evanescent happiness. "What do you think of that!" he murmured. "Same brand the old boy used to smoke. And If he pays anything less than sixty apiece for 'em at wholesale. I'll eat this one." He lighted his cigar, and gave himself up to the delights of It. Courtlandt loomed In the doorway. "Comfortable?" . "Perfectly. Good cigar, coiflfortable chair, fine view." Young men began to drift in and out. The air became heavy with , smoke, the prevailing aroma being 1 that of Turkish tobacco of which Harrigan was not at all fond. But his cigar | was so good that he was determined , not to stir until the coal began to I tickle the end of hiB nose. Since Molly knew where he was there was ' no occasion to worry. • Abbott came in. puHed a cigarette I case out of his pocket, and impatiently struck a match. His hands shook a | little and the "flare of the match re- i vealed a pale and angry countenance. J "Hey. Abbott, here's a seat. Get your second wind." "Thanks." Abbott dropped into the ' chair and smoked quickly. "Very I stuffy out there. Too many." "You look It. Having a good time?" "Oh, -fine!" There was a catch In the laugh which followed, but Harrigan's ear was not trained for these subtleties of sound. "How are you making out?" "I'm getting acclimated. Where's the colonel tonight? He ought to be around here somewhere." "I left him a few moments ago." "When you see him again, send him I In. He's a live one, and I like to hear him talk." "IH go at once," crushing his cigarette in the Jeypore bowl. "What's your hurry? You look like a man who has Just lost his Job." "Been steering a German countess. She was wound up to turn only one way, and I am groggy. I'll send the colonel over. By-by." "Now, what's stnng the boy?" Nora was enjoying herself famously. ! nhe men hummed around her like bees around the sweetest rose. From time ( to time she saw Courtlandt hovering | about the outskirts. She was glad he had come; the lepidopterist is latent ' or active in most women; to impale | the butterfly, the moth, falls easily Into i the dally routine. She was laughing ! and Jesting with the men. Her mother ! stood by, admiringly. This time Courtlandt gently pushed hi* way to Nora's side. ! "May I have a dance?" he asked. | |. "You are too late," evenly. She j was becoming tjsed to the sight of i him, much to her amazement. "I am 6orry." | "Why. Nora. I didn't know that your ! | card was filled!" said Mrs. Harrigan. j She had the maternal eye upon Court- < landt. | "Nevertheless," said Nora sweetly, "It Is a fact." , "I am disconsolate." replied Court- ' landt, who had approached for form's sake only, being fully prepared for a refusal. "I have the unfortunate habit of turning up late." with a significance which only Nora understood. "So, those who are late must suffer the consequences."

t "Supper?" x "The Barone rather than you." The music began again, and Abbott whirled her away. She was dressed In e Burmese taffeta, a rich orange. In the ! t dark of her beautiful black hair there | 5 waV"The green luster of emeralds; an ' Indian-princess necklace of emeralds j s and pearls was looped around her daz- 1 zling white throat. Unconsciously Courtlandt sighed au- 1 dlbly, and Mrs. Harrigan heard this 9 note of unrest. , ; "Who is that?" asked Mrs. Harrlgan. r "Flora Deslmone's husband, the , | duke. He and Mr. Harrigan ; were, ha v- i 9 ing quite a conversation in/the smoke . ! "What!" In consternation. r . "They were getting along flnely t when I left them." • Mrs. Harrigan felt her heart 6ink. : > The duke and James together meant t nothing short of a catastrophe; for j > James would not know whom he was ' addressing, and would make all man- ! I ner of confidences. She knew some- ' j thing -w ould happen if she let him out j of her 6ight. He was eternally talking i . I to strangers. | "Would you mind telling Mr. Harri- ; r | gan that I wish to see him?" C 1 "Not at all." > I Nora stopped at the end of the ball- , room. "Donald, let us go out into the I garden. I want a breath of air. Did ! » | you see her?" i "Couldn't help seeing her. It was i 3 the duke, 1 suppose. It appears that I he 16 an old friend of the duchess, i i- ; We'll go through the conservatory. It's j i a short-cut." r . The night was full of moonshine; It j • danced upon the water; it fired the j I filigree tops of the solemn cypress; It ! . laced the lawn with quivering , . shadows; and heavy hung the cloying | > perfume of the box-wood hedges. "O belll8slma notta!" she sang. "Is I . It not glorious?" , t "Nora," said Abbott, leaning su?S t denly toward her. s "Don't say It, Donald; please don't. 3 Don't waste your love on .me. You i are a good man. and 1 should not be > worthy the name of woman If I did . not feel proud and sad. I want you - always as a friend; and If you decide . that cannot be, I shall lose faith in everything. I have never had a . brother, and In the two short years I have grown to look on you as one. I I am sorry- But if you will look back i , you will see that I never gave you . any encouragement I was never

"1 Hate You and Detest Youl" ^ , . ■ — • |

' more than your comrade. I have many faults, but I am not naturally a I coquette. 1 know my heart; 1 know it ■ | well." I | "Is there another?" In despair. I i j "Once upon a time, Donald, there ' ; ! was. There Is nothing now but ashes, i j I am telling you this so that it will not . - be so hard for you to return to the old i j friendly footing. You are a brave man. 1 i I Any man is who takes his heart in his ; hand and offers it to a woman. You • j are going to take my hand and prom- ; ise to be my friend always." I "Ah, Nora!" j "You mustn't, Donald. I can't return | to the ballroom with my eyes red. > | You will never know how a woman ' > on the stage has to fight to earn- her j bread. And that part is only a skirmish compared to the ceaseless war ■ ! men wage against her. She has only j . the fortifications- Of her wit and her 1 - j presence of mind. Was I not abducted J in the heart of Parts? And but for the . cowardice of the man. who knows shat might have happened T It l nave , ' beauty, God gave it to me to wear, ' k and wear It I will. My father, the t padre, you and the Barone; I would not trust any other men living. I am often unhappy, but I do not inflict ' this unhapplness on others. Be you the- same. Be my friend; be bravs and fight ltjfiut of your heart."

(Julckly shV"3rew~Tns "head toward" her and lightly kissed the forehead. "There! Ah, Donald, I very much need a friend." "All right, Nora," bravely Indeed, for the pain In his young heart cried out for the ends of the earth In which to hide. "All right! I'm yonng; maybe 111 get over It In time. Always count on me. You wouldn't mind going back to the ballroom alone, would you? I've got an idea I'd like to smoke i over It. No, I'll take you to the end j of tbe conservatory' 'and come back. I can't face the rest of them just now." Nora had hoped against hope that It ; was only infatuation, but in the last few days she could not ignore the i truth that he really loved her. She I had thrown him and Celeste together I in vain. Poor Celeste,., poor lovely Celeste, who wore her heart upon her sleeve, patent to all eyes save Don- | aid's! Thus, It was with defined pur- | • pose that she had lured him this night ! ' into the garden. She wanted to dis1 1 illusion him. ' j The baron, glooming In an obscure j corner of the conservatory, saw them I come In. Abbott's brave young face deceived him. At the door Abbott j smiled and bowed and returned to the i | garden. The Barone rose to follow | • him. He had taken but a step forward, I | ! when a tableau formed by the door, ( causing him to pause Irresolutely. Nora was face to face at last with Flora Deslmone. "I wish to speak to you," said the : Italian abruptly. "Nothing you could possibly say would Interest me," declared Nora, ; I haughtily and made as if to pass, j "Do not be too sure," Insolently, i Their voices were low, but they : reached the ears of the Barone, who wished he was anywhere but here. He moved silently behind the palms | toward the exit. "Let me be frank. I hate you and I detest you with all my heart," continued Flora. "I have always hated ! you. with your supercilious aire, you, : whose father . . ." | "Don't you dare to say an 111 word j of him!" cried Nora, her Irish blood throwing hauteur to the winds. "He is kind and brave and loyal, and I am ; proud of him. Say what you will about j me; It will not bother me in the least." CHAPTER XIII. Courtlandt Tells a Story. The colonel and his guests at luncheon had listened to Courtlandt without | sound or movement beyond tbe occa- | sional rasp of feet shifting under the table. He bad begun with the old familiar phrase — "I've got a story." "Tell It," had been tbe Instant quest. AC the beginning the men had been | leaning at various negligent angles — some with their elbows upon the table, 6ome with their arms thrown across the backs of their chairs. The partridge had been excellent, the wine delicious, tbe tobacco irreproachable. Burma,' the tinkle of bells In tbe temples, the strange pictures In tbe bazaars, long Journeys over smooth and stormy seas; romance, moving and colorful, which began at Rangoon, had zig-zagged around the world, and ended in Berlin. "And so." concluded tbe teller of tbe tale, "that is tbe story. Tbie man was perfectly Innocent of any wrong, a victim of malice on the one hand and of Injustice on the other." "Is that the end of the yarn?" asked the colonel. "Who In life knows what the end of anything Is? This Is not a story out of a book." Courtlandt accepted a fresh cigar from the box which Rao passed to him, and dropped his dead weed Into tbe ash -bowl. "Has he given up?" asked Abbott, his voice strangely unfamiliar In his own ears. "A man can struggle Jukt so long against odds, then be wins or becomes broken. Women are not logical; generally they permit themselves to be guided by Impulse rather than by reason. This man I am telling yon about was proud; perhaps too proud. It Is a shameful fact, but be ran away. True, be wrote letter after letter, but all these were returned unopened. Then he stopped." I "A woman would a good deal rather j believe circumstantial evidence than I not. Humph!" The colonel primed j his pipe and relighted It "She couldn't , have been worth much." ; "Worth much!" cried Abbott. "What I do you Imply by that?" "No man will really give up a woman w ho is really worth while, that is, of oourse, admitting that your man, I Courtlandt, Is a man. Perhaps, though, j It was his fault. He was not persistent ] enough, maybe a bit spineless. The i fact that he gave up so quickly pos- ! sibly convinced her that her Impressions were correct. Why, I'd have j followed her day In and day out. year after year; never would I have let up until I had proved to her that she had been wrong." "The colonel is right," Abbott approved. never taking his eyes off Courtlandt, who was apparently absorbed in the contemplation of the bread rrumbs under his fingers. "And more, by hook or crook, I'd have dragged in the other woman by tbe hair and made her confess." "I do not doubt it, colonel," responded Courtlandt, with a dry laugh. "And that would really have been the end of the story. The heroine of this rambling tale would then have been absolutely certain of collusion be1 tween the two." "That is like a woman," the Barone agreed, and he knew something about them. "And where Is this man now?" "Here," said Courtlandt. pushing back his "h»tr »nii rising. "I am be." | He turned his back upon them and •ought the garden. Tableau! ( Ts be cos tinned.) » t t! I I

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