from my rough lips. A renegade is always solicitous to temper the wind for his latest mistress."
I drew a deep breath of rage at the insult and the foul slander insinuated with such devilish adroitness.
"The Count is right, Madam, I must admit my defeat," said the Princess haughtily.
"I must ask you to withdraw, Countess," said I sternly.
She laughed with wanton insolence.
"I am no servant of yours to be bade to do this or ordered to do that. I came to this interview to please you, I shall leave it to please myself;" and she drew herself up to her full height in defiance. Then she laughed again a loud, ringing laugh, forced, of course, but a clever parody of spontaneous merriment. "Upon my word, this is a pretty scene, and I have vastly enjoyed it. I have, alas! no weapon with me save my tongue, or there should have been a different ending, I do assure you. But that I can use. You have shrunk from the truth to-day, as the Count here shrank yesterday, when I discovered the secret of his warm allegiance to you."
"Silence, Madam!" I cried hastily, fearing what her rash tongue would say.
"Is he not earnest, your Highness? Is he not a man to be proud of? To warm a woman's heart? I told you just now of men you had won away from my Prince and me—here stands the latest of those renegades, a man who loves you." She uttered the words with an accent of assumed sincerity. "I congratulate you, Princess, upon your conquest. I cannot hope to regain for my Prince a man who is aflame with a new-*born passion for you."
"This is monstrous," I cried, my face flushed with anger and concern. "If you do not leave the room, I
