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himself to blame. If he wanted matrimony he should have kept to mortal flesh. Fairy food is mostly damned unsatisfying."

"I don't know what you're talking about, but it sounds very silly. And I must go home now. I have a Russian lesson."

"Pirouettes or verbs?" Martens wanted to know.

"Verbs."

"Strange, Lina, that you can't speak your own language!"

"Oh, you know very well that it's not my own language. But he wants me to speak it well enough to pass as Russian, and so I must at least try."

When she returned, walking listlessly, swinging her bonnet by the string, Rosing met her at the door, pale with an intense excitement.

"My little one, your début! It's all arranged—six months from now—Naples—the San Carlo Theater!"

And the charming transports of her emotion, the sparkling gaiety of her face, the joyous enthusiasm that caused her to fling her arms about his neck, kissing him repeatedly, so delighted him that he wept for very pleasure and then, sitting on his knee, she dried his eyes with her own handkerchief.

"You shall be proud of me. I promise you that you shall be proud of me!"

"But I am already proud of you," Rosing declared.

"How good you are! How much I love you!"

And she embraced him once more.

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