“Charming mees,” said Girasole, with a deprecating air, “it pains me to do any ting dat you do not like.”

“It don’t pain you,” said Minnie—­“it don’t pain you at all. You’re always teasing me.  You never do what I want you to.  You wouldn’t even give me a chair.”

“Alas, carissima mia, to-morra you sall haf all!  But dis place is so remote.”

“It is not remote,” said Minnie.  “It’s close by roads and villages and things.  Why, here is Ethel; she has been in a village where there are houses, and people, and as many chairs as she wants.”

“Oh, mees, eef you will but wait an’ be patient—­eef you will but wait an’ see how tender I will be, an’ how I lof you.”

“You don’t love me,” said Minnie, “one bit.  Is this love—­not to give me a chair?  I have been standing up till I am nearly ready to drop.  And you have nothing better than some wretched promises.  I don’t care for to-morrow; I want to be comfortable to-day.  You won’t let me have a single thing.  And now you come to tease me again, and frighten poor, dear, darling Ethel.”

“Eet ees because she deceif me—­she come wit a plot—­she steal in here.  Eef she had wait, all would be well.”

“You mustn’t dare to touch her,” said Minnie, vehemently.  “You shall leave her here.  She shall stay with me.”

“I am ver pain—­oh, very; but oh, my angel—­sweet—­charming mees—­eet ees dangaire to my lof.  She plot to take you away.  An’ all my life is in you.  Tink what I haf to do to gain you!”

Minnie looked upon Girasole, with her large eyes dilated with excitement and resentment.

“You are a horrid, horrid man,” she exclaimed.  “I hate you.”

“Oh, my angel,” pleaded Girasole, with deep agitation, “take back dat word.”

“I’m sorry you ever saved my life,” said Minnie, very calmly; “and I’m sorry I ever saw you.  I hate you.”

“Ah, you gif me torment.  You do not mean dis.  You say once you lof me.”

“I did not say I loved you.  It was you who said you loved me.  I never liked you.  And I don’t really see how I could be engaged to you when I was engaged to another man before.  He is the only one whom I recognize now.  I don’t know you at all.  For I couldn’t be bound to two men; could I, Ethel dear?”

Ethel did not reply to this strange question.

But upon Girasole its effect was very great.  The manner of Minnie had been excessively perplexing to him all through this eventful day.  If she had stormed and gone into a fine frenzy he could have borne it.  It would have been natural.  But she was perfectly unconcerned, and her only complaint was about trifles.  Such trifles too!  He felt ashamed to think that he could have subjected to such annoyances a woman whom he so dearly loved.  And now he was once more puzzled.  Minnie confronted