vows--when Undine had found her soul at last, in Huldebrand's
arms--her voice faltered, and she stopped and looked down.

"And then?" said Paul, and his breath came rather fast. "And then?"

"He was a man, you see, Paul; so when he had won her love, he did not
value it--he threw it away."

"Oh, no! I don't believe it!" Paul exclaimed vehemently. "It was just
this brute Huldebrand. But you don't know men--to think they do not
value what they win--you don't know them, indeed!"

She looked down straight into his face, as he gazed up at her, and to
his intense surprise he could have sworn her eyes were green now! as
green as emeralds. And they held him and fascinated him and paralysed
him, like those of a snake.

"I do not know men?" she said softly. "You think not, Paul?"

But Paul could hardly speak, he buried his face in her lap, like a
child, and kept it there, kissing her gloved hands. His straw hat,
with its Zingari ribbon, lay on the grass beside him, and a tiny shaft
of sunlight glanced through the trees, gilding the crisp waves of his
brushed-back hair into dark burnished gold.

The lady moved one hand from his impassioned caress, and touched the
curl with her finger-tips. She smiled with the tenderness a mother
might have done.

"There--there!" she said. "Not yet." Then she drew her hand away from