Peter sat on his rustic bench, by the riverside, and watched
him, smoking a cigarette the while.

The Duchessa di Santangiolo stood screened by a tree in the
park of Ventirose, and watched them both.

Francois wore a wide blue ribbon round his pink and chubby
neck; and his dinner consisted of a big bowlful of bread and
milk.

Presently the Duchessa stepped forth from her ambush, into the
sun, and laughed.

"What a sweetly pretty scene," she said. "Pastoral--idyllic
--it reminds one of Theocritus--it reminds one of Watteau."

Peter threw his cigarette into the river, and made an
obeisance.

"I am very glad you feel the charm of it," he responded. "May
I be permitted to present Master Francois Vllon?"

"We have met before," said the Duchessa, graciously smiling
upon Francois, and inclining her head.

"Oh, I did n't know," said Peter, apologetic.

"Yes," said the Duchessa, "and in rather tragical
circumstances. But at that time he was anonymous. Why--if you