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"But there were two things I feared for several reasons--Le Mire's fascination, your own youth and impulsive recklessness, and the rather curious mode of your departure. I feared first and most that you would marry her; second, that you would achieve odium and publicity for our name."

Harry was regarding me with a smile which had in it very little of amusement; it held a tinge of bitterness.

"And so," he burst out suddenly, "you were afraid I would marry her! Well, I would. The last time I asked her"--again the smile--"was this morning."

"And--"

"She won't have me."

"Bah!" I concealed my surprise, for I had really not thought it possible that the lad could be such a fool. "What's her game, Harry?"

"Game the deuce! I tell you she won't have me."

"You have asked her?"

"A thousand times. I've begged her on my knees. Offered her--anything."

"And she refuses?"

"Positively."

"Refuses?"

"With thanks."

I stared at him for a moment in silence. Then I said: "Go and get her and bring her here. I'll find out what she wants," and sat down on a bench to wait. Harry departed for the hotel without a word.

In a few minutes he returned with Le Mire. I rose and proffered her a seat on the bench, which she accepted with a smile, and Harry sat down at her side. I stood in front of them.

"Le Mire," said I, and I believe I frowned, "my brother tells me that you have been offered the name of Lamar in marriage."

"I have thanked him for it," said she with a smile.

"And declined it."

"And--declined it," she agreed.

"Well," said I, "I am not a man of half measures, as you will soon see, Le Mire. Besides, I appreciate your power. On the day," I continued with slow precision--"on the day that you give me a contract to adhere to that refusal you may have my check for one million dollars."

She surprised me; I admit it. I had expected a burst of anger, with a touch of assumed hauteur; the surrender to follow, for I had made the stake high. But as I stood looking down at her, waiting for the flash of her eye, I was greeted by a burst of laughter--the frank laughter of genuine mirth. Then she spoke:

"Oh, you Americans! You are so funny! A million dollars! It is impossible that I should be angry after such a compliment. Besides, you are so funny! Do you not know Le Mire? Am I not a princess if I desire it--tomorrow--today? Bah! There is the world--is it not mine? Mrs. Lamar? Ugh! Pardon me, my friend, but it is an ugly name.

"You know my ancestors? De L'Enclos, Montalais, Maintenon, La Marana! They were happy--in their way--and they were great. I must do nothing unworthy of them. Set your mind at rest, Mr. Lamar; but, really, you should have known better--you who have seen the world and Le Mire in Paris! And now our amusement is perhaps ended? Now we must return to that awful New York? Voila!"

Indeed I had not understood her. And how could I? There is only one such woman in a generation; sometimes none, for nature is sparing of her favorites. By pure luck she sat before me, this twentieth-century Marana, and I acknowledged her presence with a deep bow of apology and admiration.

"If you will forgive me, madame," I said, "I will--not attempt to make reparation, for my words were not meant for you. Consider them unspoken. As for our amusement, why need it end? Surely, we can forget? I see plainly I am not a St. Evremond, but neither am I a fool. My brother pleases you--well, there he is. As for myself, I shall either stay to take care of you two children, or I shall return to New York, as you desire."

Le Mire looked at me uncertainly for a moment, then turned to Harry and with a fluttering gesture took his hand in her own and patted it gaily. Then she laughed the happy laugh of a child as she said:

"Then it is well! And, monsieur, you are less an American than I thought. By all means, stay--we shall be so jolly! Will we not, my little friend?"

Harry nodded, smiling at her. But there was a troubled look in his face.

Chapter IV.

ALLONS!

The events of the month that followed, though exciting enough, were