“I am glad you like it,” replied the girl.  “I—­er—­” She clapped her dainty hand over her masked mouth.  She was near to betraying her identity.

“Like it?” he repeated.  “How could I do otherwise?  But in all this human garden there is no fairer flower than—­Rosebud,” and he brought her hand reverently to his lips.

“Oh!  You—­you mustn’t be too—­too gay!” she expostulated, but she laughed as she said it.  “You know the patronesses have specified—­”

“There!” he exclaimed, interrupting her.  “It’s all right, Rosebud,” and he tucked her arm within his own.  “I will make love to the trees if it pleases you.  But let us walk about the grounds.  I am afraid the curtain will be suddenly rung down and leave us again just mortals.”

Rosebud felt that it was, pretty—­very pretty.  She was entirely satisfied with herself and her friends.  Then Adonis—­wasn’t he splendid?  And how courteous—­almost like the brave knights of old.

They approached a spot gloomy with shadows.

From it they heard voices in a gentle murmur—­voices near what
Adonis had called the cedar cave.

Involuntarily, at the sound of one voice, Rosebud pressed her companion’s arm.  She heard some one say: 

“I must go home at once—­I am so frightened!”

There came an answering whisper, but it was in tones that indicated a youth pleading.

“I have—­I have done it,” again came the girl’s frightened whisper.  “I did what you asked me to, and I don’t see why you don’t take me home.”

There was almost a sob in her voice.

“What?  Just when I’m having a fine time?” objected the other.  “Why don’t you want to stay?  No one could have seen you drop it into—–­”

“Hush!” cautioned the girl desperately.

“Oh, you’re just nervous—­that’s all.”

Rosebud felt that she should not hear any more, but she would either have to cross the path near the cave and allow the hidden ones to see her, or she must wait until they had come out, as, if she and her companion retreated now, they would make a noise on the gravel, and it would be heard.  Adonis seemed to understand the situation, and whispered to his companion: 

“Stay.  They’ll be gone in a moment.”  He drew her farther back into the shadows.

“If you don’t take me home,” continued the girl in the cedar cave, “I’ll ask some one else to.  I certainly shall not stay until supper and have to unmask.  I dare not.”

“Just as you like,” was the cool response.

“And I risked it all for you—­spoiled my entire evening.  I’ll know better next time!”

“Well, I’m going to make it up to you,” said her companion.

There was a movement of the cedars, and two figures emerged from amid the trees.  They crossed the path.  They were Antonio and the nun.

Rosebud drew Adonis farther back from the path.  The others passed on without seeing them and at once began talking gaily, as if they had been merrymaking with the rest but Rosebud and Adonis detected the false note in their laughter.  Adonis pressed the little warm hand on his sleeve.