rough roads, he would suddenly find the going smooth. He was never swift enough mentally to follow these flying transitions from enmity to amity. In the present instance, how was he to know that his tigress had found in the man below something to play with?
“You once did me an ill turn,” came up the tube. “I desire that you make some reparation.”
“Sainted Mother! but it has taken you a long time to find out that I have injured you,” she mocked.
There was no reply to this; so she was determined to stir the fire a little.
“And I advise you to be careful what you say; the duke is a very jealous man.”
That gentleman fingered his beard thoughtfully.
“I do not care a hang if he is.”
The duke coughed loudly close to the tube.
Silence.
“The least you can do, Madame, is to give me her address.”
“Her address!” repeated the duke relievedly. He had had certain grave doubts, but these now took wing. Old flames were not in the habit of asking, nay, demanding, other women’s addresses.
“I am speaking to Madame, your Highness,” came sharply.
“We do not speak off the stage,” said the singer, pushing the duke aside.
“I should like to make that young man’s acquaintance,” whispered the duke.
She warned him to be silent.
Came the voice again: “Will you give me her address, please? Your messenger gave me your address, inferring that you wished to see me.”
“I?” There was no impeaching her astonishment.
“Yes, Madame.”
“My dear Mr. Courtlandt, you are the last man in all the wide world I wish to see. And I do not quite like the way you are making your request. His highness does not either.”
“Send him down!”
“That is true.”
“What is?”
“I remember. You are very strong and much given to fighting.”
The duke opened and shut his hands, pleasurably. Here was something he could understand. He was a fighting man himself. Where was this going to end, and what was it all about?
“Do you not think, Madame, that you owe me something?”
“No. What I owe I pay. Think, Mr. Courtlandt; think well.”
“I do not understand,” impatiently.
“Ebbene, I owe you nothing. Once I heard you say – ‘I do not like to see you with the Calabrian; she is – Well, you know.’ I stood behind you at another time when you said that I was a fool.”
“Madame, I do not forget that, that is pure invention. You are mistaken.”
“No. You were. I am no fool.” A light laugh drifted down the tube.
“Madame, I begin to see.”
“Ah!”
“You believe what you wish to believe.”
“I think not.”
“I never even noticed you,” carelessly.
“Take care!” whispered the duke, who noted the sudden dilation of her nostrils.
“It is easy to forget,” cried the diva, furiously. “It is easy for you to forget, but not for me.”
“Madame, I do not forget that you entered my room that night …”
“Your address!” bawled the duke. “That statement demands an explanation.”
“I should explain at once, your Highness,” said the man down below calmly, “only I prefer to leave that part in Madame’s hands. I should not care to rob her of anything so interesting and dramatic. Madame the duchess can explain, if she wishes. I am stopping at the Grand, if you find her explanations are not up to your requirements.”
“I shall give you her address,” interrupted the diva, hastily. The duke’s bristling beard for one thing and the ice in the other man’s tones for another, disquieted her. The play had gone far enough, much as she would have liked to continue it. This was going deeper than she cared to go. She gave the address and added: “To-night she sings at the Austrian ambassador’s. I give you this information gladly because I know that it will be of no use to you.”
“Then I shall dispense with the formality of thanking you. I add that I wish you twofold the misery you have carelessly and gratuitously cost me. Good 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
