doubt, by the disparity in the height of the two shadows. The man was at least half a head shorter than his companion, but his ardour seemed a thousandfold more vast. Chase was amused by the apparent intensity of the small officer's devotion, especially as it was met with a coldness that would have chilled the fervour of a man much larger and therefore more timid. It was impossible to see the faces of the couple until they passed through a moonlit streak in the walk, quite close at hand.

Chase started and grasped his companion's arm. One was the Princess Genevra and—was it possible? Yes, the nimble conductor! The sensation of the hour—the musical lion! Moreover, to Chase's cold horror, the "little freak" was actually making violent love to the divinity of Rapp-Thorberg!

There was no doubt of it now. The Princess and her escort—the plebeian upstart—were quite near at hand, and, to the dismay of the smokers, apparently were unaware of their presence in the shadows. Chase's heart was boiling with disappointed rage. His idol had fallen, from a tremendous height to a depth which disgusted him.

Then transpired the thing which brought about Hollingsworth Chase's sudden banishment from Rapp-Thorberg, and came near to making him the laughing stock of the service.

The Princess had not seen the two men; nor had the fervent conductor, whose impassioned French was easily distinguishable by the unwilling listeners. The sharp, indignant "no" of the Princess, oft repeated, did much to relieve the pain in the heart of her American admirer. Finally, with an unmistakable cry of anger, she halted not ten feet from where Chase sat, as though he had become a part of the stone rail. He could almost feel the blaze in her eyes as she turned upon the presumptuous conductor.

"I have asked you not to touch me, sir! Is not that enough? If you persist, I shall be compelled to appeal to my father again. The whole situation is loathsome to me. Are you blind? Can you not see that I despise you? I will not endure it a day longer. You promised to respect my wishes—"

"How can I respect a promise which condemns me to purgatory every time I see you?" he cried passionately. "I adore you. You are the queen of my life, the holder of my soul. Genevra, Genevra, I love you! My soul for one tender word, for one soft caress! Ah, do not be so cruel! I will be your slave—"

"Enough! Stop, I say! If you dare to touch me!" she cried, drawing away from her tormentor, 

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