The Place of Honeymoons. Harold MacGrath

night!” Click! went the little covering of the tube.

      “Now,” said the duke, whose knowledge of the English tongue was not so indifferent that he did not gather the substance, if not all the shadings, of this peculiar conversation; “now, what the devil is all this about?”

      “I hate him!”

      “Refused to singe his wings?”

      “He has insulted me!”

      “I am curious to learn about that night you went to his room.”

      Her bear had a ring in his nose, but she could not always lead him by it. So, without more ado, she spun the tale, laughing at intervals. The story evidently impressed the duke, for his face remained sober all through the recital.

      “Did he say that you were a fool?”

      “Of course not!”

      “Shall I challenge him?”

      “Oh, my Russian bear, he fences like a Chicot; he is a dead shot; and is afraid of nothing … but a woman. No, no; I have something better. It will be like one of those old comedies. I hate her!” with a burst of fury. “She always does everything just so much better than I do. As for him, he was nothing. It was she; I hurt her, wrung her heart.”

      “Why?” mildly.

      “Is not that enough?”

      “I am slow; it takes a long time for anything to get into my head; but when it arrives, it takes a longer time to get it out.”

      “Well, go on.” Her calm was ominous.

      “Love or vanity. This American singer got what you could not get. You have had your way too long. Perhaps you did not love him. I do not believe you can really love any one but Flora. Doubtless he possessed millions; but on the other hand, I am a grand duke; I offered marriage, openly and legally, in spite of all the opposition brought to bear.”

      Flora was undeniably clever. She did the one thing that could successfully cope with this perilous condition of the ducal mind. She laughed, and flung her arms around his neck and kissed him.

      “I have named you well. You are a tigress. But this comedy of which you speak: it might pass in Russia, but not in Paris.”

      “I shall not be in the least concerned. My part was suggestion.”

      “You suggested it to some one else?”

      “To be sure!”

      “My objections …”

      “I will have my way in this affair. Besides, it is too late.”

      Her gesture was explicit. He sighed. He knew quite well that she was capable of leaving the apartment that night, in her kimono.

      “I’ll go to Capri,” resignedly. Dynamite bombs were not the worst things in the world.

      “I don’t want to go now.”

      The duke picked up a fresh cigarette. “How the devil must have laughed when the Lord made Eve!”