Those from my charming minstrel to
me--make similar tours."
"And I?"
"You--my secretary--having spent a few days with the Sherrills on your
way to join me after months of frivoling with a hay-camp, have been
forced by telegram to depart before the _fete de nuit_ to which Miss
Sherrill begged our attendance. Rest assured he knows that too.
Therefore, to unmask unobtrusively and slip away to his room, and in
the absence of other guests to linger for a week of incognito
quiet--_voila_! he is quite safe though imprudent!"
Greek and Bedouin fell silent, watching the laughing pageant in the
garden.
Venetian lamps glowed like yellow witch-lights in the branches;
fountains tossed moon-bright sprays of quicksilver aloft and tinkled
with the splash; the waters of a sunken pool, jeweled in stars,
glimmered darkly green through files of cypress. All in all, an
entrancing moon-mad world of mystery and dusk-moths, heavy with the
scent of jasmine and orange. And the moon played brightly on curious
folk, on spangles and jewels and masked and laughing eyes.
A gray mendicant monk with sombre, thin-lipped face beneath a grayish
mask slipped furtively by with a curious air of listening intently to
the careless chatter about him; a fat and plaintive Queen Elizabeth
followed, talking to a stout courtier who was over-trusting the seams
of his satin breeches.
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