Saint-Germain, and well on the shabby side?" said the Duke.

"Yes; well?"

"Well then, my dear girl, what are you complaining about? They
balance; the equilibrium is restored. You can't have everything,"
said the Duke; and he laughed mischievously.

Germaine flushed, and bit her lip; her eyes sparkled.

"You don't care a rap about me," she said stormily.

"But I find you adorable," said the Duke.

"You keep annoying me," said Germaine pettishly. "And you do it on
purpose. I think it's in very bad taste. I shall end by taking a
dislike to you--I know I shall."

"Wait till we're married for that, my dear girl," said the Duke; and
he laughed again, with a blithe, boyish cheerfulness, which deepened
the angry flush in Germaine's cheeks.

"Can't you be serious about anything?" she cried.

"I am the most serious man in Europe," said the Duke.

Germaine went to the window and stared out of it sulkily.

The Duke walked up and down the hall, looking at the pictures of
some of his ancestors--somewhat grotesque persons--with humorous