"Yes, they say he really wrote it himself," drawled Baggs, puffing away.

"I'm not talking about the music," corrected Chase sharply.

"Oh," murmured Baggs, apologetically. "The night?"

"No! The Princess, Baggs. Haven't you noticed her?" with intense sarcasm
in his tone.

"Of course, I have, old chap. By Jove, do you know she _is_
good-looking--positively ripping."

The concert over, people began strolling into the more distant corners
of the huge garden, down the green-walled walks and across the moonlit
terraces. For a long time, the two men sat moodily smoking in their dark
nook, watching the occasional passers-by; listening to the subdued
laughter and soft voices of the women, the guttural pleasantries of the
men. They lazily observed the approach of one couple, attracted, no
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