painting. Scorpa keeps his house open and heated; he takes care of it on
that account. Is that not a wonderful reason?"

"Whose reason was that?"

"Scorpa's own!" He danced a few steps in his excess of delight.

His wife arose and put her hand on his arm. "To please me, do not send
the picture. I can sell the jewels and have false stones put in their
places. We need not have any one know. But I don't want to remain in the
duke's debt!"

"The picture is already in his possession."

"In his possession? But how?"

"He drove over here just now, followed me in his motor-car, and took it
back with him."

The princess was evidently frightened. "What are his reasons?" she said
to herself, yet audibly.

Her husband looked at her, his head a little on one side, then he said
banteringly: "My dear, you Americans are too analytical. You always look
for a motive. Life is not of motive over here. Have you not learned that
in all these years? We act from impulse, as the mood takes us--we have
not the hidden thought that you are always looking for."

"You speak for yourself, Sandro _mio_, but all are not like you.
However, since the picture is gone--and since you have made that