"Then there IS some man you like?" he asked, stiffly.

"I'm not sure!" she answered, lightly--"I said I felt 'disposed' to
like him! But that's only in the spirit of contradiction, because he
detests ME! And it's a sort of duel between us of sheer
intellectuality, because he is trying to discover--in the usual
slow, laborious, calculating methods of man--the very thing I HAVE
discovered! He's on the verge--But not across it!"

"And so--he may outstrip you?" And the Marchese's eyes glittered
with sudden anger--"He may claim YOUR discovery as his own?"

Morgana smiled. She was ascending the steps of the loggia, and she
paused a moment in the full glare of the Sicilian sunshine, her
wonderful gold hair shining in it with the hue of a daffodil.

"I think not!" she said--"Though of course it depends on the use he
makes of it. He--like all men--wishes to destroy; I, like all women,
wish to create!"

One or two of the workmen who were busy polishing the rose-marble
pilasters of the loggia, here saluted her--she returned their
salutations with an enchanting smile.

"How delightful it all is!" she said--"I feel the real use of
dollars at last! This beautiful 'palazzo,' in one of the loveliest
places in the world--all the delicious flowers running down in
garlands to the very shore of the sea-and liberty to enjoy life as
one wishes to enjoy it, without hindrance or argument--without even
the hindrance and argument of--love!" She laughed, and gave a