by his brief and fickle love. For, as a rule, men do not
understand love. They understand desire, amounting sometimes to
merciless covetousness for what they cannot get,--this is a
leading natural characteristic of the masculine nature--but Love--
love that endures silently and faithfully through the stress of
trouble and the passing of years--love which sacrifices everything
to the beloved and never changes or falters,--this is a divine
passion which seldom or never sanctifies and inspires the life of
a man. Women are not made of such base material; their love
invariably springs first from the Ideal, not the Sensual, and if
afterwards it develops into the sensual, it is through the rough
and coarsening touch of man alone.

Throughout the entire day the Princess Ziska herself never left
her private apartments, and towards late afternoon Gervase began
to feel the hours drag along with unconscionable slowness and
monotony. Never did the sun seem so slow in sinking; never did the
night appear so far off. When at last dinner was served in the
hotel, both Denzil Murray and Dr. Dean sat next to him at table,
and, judging from outward appearances, the most friendly relations
existed between all three of them. At the close of the meal,
however, Denzil made a sign to Gervase to follow him, and when
they had reached a quiet corner, said:

"I am aware of your victory; you have won where I have lost. But
you know my intention?"

"Perfectly!" responded Gervase, with a cool smile.

"By Heaven!" went on the younger man, in accents of suppressed