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The maiden heaved a sigh of relief and steadied herself against one of the massive mahogany chairs, showing by her attitude that the recent strain had told upon her.

“Heaven be praised! You are safe here, for a time at least,” she managed to say.

“Nice, comfy place, this,” remarked Van Dam, with an appreciative glance at the surroundings. “We can sit here and–and get acquainted–eh?”

“Hm-m! I think I have learned to know you quite well in the past half-hour,” she laughed.

“True! But we’ve had very little chance to talk calmly and rationally; now, have we? Of course you’re accustomed to such things, perhaps; but it has been a trifle strenuous for a person of my easy ways. I don’t mind telling you that I’m positively winded. Let’s rest a bit before you leave.”

But the girl shook her head at his suggestion. “You forget how she has waited and longed for this hour. She has been very ill; nothing seemed to interest her until you promised to come on the last day of the fiesta. Since then she has been like another woman. She is counting the moments now until she feels your arms about her.”

Roly stirred uncomfortably, for here was something he had not counted upon. One woman at a time was ample; he had no desire to hold another to his breast. He was shocked, too, that this girl should suggest such a thing after what had passed between them. It was unseemly. He felt tempted to confess his deception and to demand an explanation of the whole affair, but some sense of shame held him back. Besides, his companion was undoubtedly sincere, and he could not bring himself to cause her dismay.

Another reason that urged him to hold his tongue and to let the adventure run its course was that as yet he had not seen her face. The desire to do so was becoming insufferable. He was about to claim the privilege when she changed the current of his thoughts.

“You must not be shocked if she does not recognize you. She has been ill, very ill, since you–proved so great a–trial to her. You understand?”

“Perfectly!” he said, thankful that she could not detect his signs of bewilderment.

“Very well, then. You will make free of your cousin Alfred’s hospitality while I am gone.” She laughed nervously. “La! There is irony for you.”

“Suppose he should return in the mean time?”

She shrugged. “You seem quite capable of caring for yourself, m’sieu’. I should not wish to be in his shoes, that is all. But there is little danger. And now I must leave you.”

“Just a moment,” he said, taking her two hands in his. “You have seen my face. Don’t you think I wish to see yours?”

Her breath caught at the tone of his voice. “Not yet. Please! When I return–when you have held her in your arms and made your peace. Then, perhaps, if you wish–but not until then.” She pressed his fingers meaningly, and he thrilled.

“You haven’t spoken my name, either,” said he. “Won’t you tell me that you–like me?”

“I–like you, Cousin Emile,” said she; then, in a voice that told him she was blushing rosily, “and what name do you give to me?”

Roly’s wits came to his rescue barely in time; with an air of deepest tenderness, that was not all assumed, he said: “I haven’t dared acknowledge the name my heart has given you, even to myself. It is–“

“No, no!” she laughed, tremulously. “Call me Madelon.”

“Madelon, Desire of my Dreams.” He raised her hand to his lips. “Until you give me leave to lift your mask I kiss these dimpled fingers.”

It was plain that his boldness did not altogether displease her, for she paused reluctantly upon the threshold. Her eyes were shining, although her mask smiled at him vacuously as she said:

“You are a most unusual young man. You awaken something strange within me. I cannot despise you as I should, for you have taken away my reason. That is disturbing, is it not? Now, then, avail yourself of the hospitality of the man who has robbed you. I shall return as fast as ever my feet will bring me.” She waved him a kiss and was gone.