She looked up with a calm smile.

“The devil is always welcomed by a woman,” she answered sweetly—­her eyes were black lakes with fire moving in their depths—­“that is one of our proverbs.  It is quite true.”

The lips curled and the creamy satin of the cheeks dimpled and the blue earrings shook against her neck.

“What lovely earrings,” I said, smiling down upon her, and put up my hand gently to touch one.  She did not draw back nor seem to resent my action.

“You think them pretty?  I have others upstairs.  Will you come up and see my jewellery?”

I assented with the greatest willingness, and we went on down the passage and then up the narrow, steep flight of stairs at the end.

“Don’t wake up your child,” I said in sudden horror, as we reached the small square landing above of slender rickety uncovered boards.

“Oh, he never wakes till one pulls him up,” she answered tranquilly, and led the way into a little chamber.  Did she sleep here?  I wondered.  There was no bed, but a loose heap of red rugs in one corner.  The windows were mere narrow horizontal slits close to the ceiling.  In the centre, blocking up all the space, stood a high narrow chest.  It looked very old, of blackened wood and antique shape.  I had never seen such a thing.  On the top of this, which nearly came to her chin, she eagerly spread out heaps of little paper parcels she took from one of the drawers.

“Have you any earrings just like those you are wearing?” I asked her.  If she had, I would buy them if I could for my cousin Viola, I thought.  Viola was excessively fair, and those blue stones would be enchanting against her blonde hair.

“You want to buy them?” she said quickly.  “I have a pair here just like, only green.  Buy those.”

“No,” I said.  “It is the colour I like.  Do you want to sell these blue ones you are wearing?”

“No,” she said quickly; “not these,” and ran to a small mirror on the wall and looked in hastily, fearfully, as if she thought that by wishing for them I could charm them away from her out of her very ears.

That she appreciated so well the effect of the colour harmony between the blue stones and her own cream-hued skin, and the value of it in setting off her beauty, pleased me.  It seemed to augur well for her artistic sense.

“May I sit down here?” I asked her, going to the pile of scarlet rugs and cushions in the corner.

“Oh yes, Meester Treevor, sit down,” and she came hastily forward to rearrange them for me with Oriental politeness.  I sat down, drawing up my legs as I best could, and pointed to a place beside me.

“Come and sit down, Suzee,” I said; “I have something to show you now.”