“And, look you, sir,” Moore went on; “I do not know you, but, if you will take my poor advice, you will let it be for the future, too.”  He offered his arm to his companion.  “Mademoiselle, shall we continue the stroll?”

“What a queer speech,” said my Masque, “one might almost fancy they were of royal rank.”

“The King, possibly,” I suggested.

“Nonsense, monsieur; you know perfectly well His Majesty is not in Dornlitz.”

“The Duke of Lotzen and the American Archduke, then.”

She laughed.  “Very likely; very likely, indeed!”

“Mademoiselle is pleased to ridicule.”

“And monsieur is pleased to affect ignorance.”

“Of what?” I asked.

“When did your Knaveship come to Dornlitz?”

“Very recently.”

“You must be a very stupid—­diplomat.”

“I am,” I agreed.

“Do you know the ‘American Archduke,’ as you call him?”

“Very slightly,” said I.

“Doubtless you would rather know his wife,” she said naively.

“Then you think he is married?” I asked.

“Of course, monsieur—­so does everyone—­don’t you?”

“No,” said I.  “I don’t.”

She laughed.  “You mean you don’t want to think so,——­madame is very beautiful—­n’est ce pas?”

“Do you know her?” I asked evasively.

“No, monsieur; do you?”

“I have met her.”

“Oh!  Oh!” she exclaimed.  Then she looked at me quickly.  “I thought she received no visitors.”

I shrugged my shoulders.  “The lady does not interest me,” I said; “let us talk of something else.”

“Of the American Archduke, then,” she suggested.

“Why not of yourself?” I urged.

“I am only a Masque—­the American may be a King.”

“Not likely,” I scoffed.

“Are you for Lotzen?” she demanded.

“Diplomats are neutral,” said I; “but, entre nous, I have become rather interested in the American.”

“So have I,” said she.  “He is very handsome.”

“Thank you,” I said, involuntarily.

She stopped and looked at me.  I was glad, indeed, for the mask.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Would you mind repeating that last remark?” she said.

I pretended surprise.

“You said the American was very handsome and I said ‘thank you.’  I mean I don’t agree with you.”

“Oh!” she answered.

But I would have been better satisfied if I could have seen her face.

“I wouldn’t let the Valerians know it,” she went on.  “He is the perfect double of the great national Hero.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“And it’s no small item in his popularity.”

“I didn’t know he was popular,” I said.—­This was getting interesting.

“Really, monsieur, your ignorance of the very matters, which you should know, would suggest you are an American diplomat.”