automobiles with an air of inexpressible though languid hauteur. The
Newport letter in the Cranston Telegraph often referred to it. But
the gayety of that greeting from the Countess' little handkerchief
was infinitely refreshing, and Mellin decided that animation was more
becoming than hauteur--even to a _"grande dame."_

That night he wrote (almost without effort) the verses published in the
Cranston Telegraph two weeks later. They began:

_Marquise, ma belle_, with your kerchief of
lace
Awave from your flying car,
And your slender hand--

The hand to which he referred was the same which had arrested his
gondola and his heart simultaneously, five days ago, in Venice. He was
on his way to the station when Madame de Vaurigard's gondola shot out
into the Grand Canal from a narrow channel, and at her signal both boats
paused.

"Ah! but you fly away!" she cried, lifting her eyebrows mournfully,
as she saw the steamer-trunk in his gondola. "You are goin' return to
America?"

"No. I'm just leaving for Rome."

"Well, in three day' _I_ am goin' to Rome!" She clapped her hands
lightly and laughed. "You know this is three time' we meet jus' by
chance, though that second time it was so quick--_pff_! like that--we
didn't talk much togezzer! Monsieur Mellin," she laughed again, "I think