an awkward blunder, an unlucky accident, might do it. What would become
of him then?

He would lose his place and all his other employments, one by one.
He would lose confidence and consideration. Farewell to all ambitious
dreams, all hopes of wealth, all dreams of an advantageous marriage.
And still, by an odd contradiction, Mechinet did not repent what he had
done, and felt quite ready to do it over again. He was in this state of
mind when the old nurse brought him Dionysia's letter.

"What, again?" he exclaimed.

And when he had read the few lines, he replied,--

"Tell your mistress I will be there!" But in his heart he thought some
untoward event must have happened.

The little garden-gate was half-open: he had only to push it to enter.
There was no moon; but the night was clear, and at a short distance from
him, under the trees, he recognized Dionysia, and went towards her.

"Pardon me, sir," she said, "for having dared to send for you."

Mechinet's anxiety vanished instantly. He thought no longer of his
strange position. His vanity was flattered by the confidence which this
young lady put in him, whom he knew very well as the noblest, the most
beautiful, and the richest heiress in the whole country.

"You were quite right to send for me, madam," he replied, "if I can be
of any service to you."