PARIS and London were like two rival circuses bidding for the public, beating tom-toms, blowing horns, and sending out band-wagons and parades. While Persis was wearying of the English side-shows, Forbes was tiring of the French. The wounds Persis had inflicted on his heart and his pride were still fresh and bleeding. The fever had not left him. At the thought of her, or the sight of her name frequently in the daily papers, or her portrait in the illustrated papers, the scarlet shame of his defeat still ran across his brow, still the hunger for her gripped him, regret sickened him.

Senator Tait had not enjoyed the progress of his conspiracy. For secretary he had taken Stowe Webb, who moved about like an immature Hamlet with a heart draped in black. For military attachÉ he had brought Forbes, whose thoughts flew backward to the past instead of scouting ahead. For acting ambassadress he had brought a daughter who, though torn away from her New York charities, found new miseries to engage her everywhere. Even on the ship she had sought distress—in the stokehold, in the steerage and the second cabin. Instead of holding hands in moonlit nooks and funnel-corners, she was taking up purses, sterilizing milk for sick babies, and selling tickets for a benefit concert.

Forbes admired Mildred profoundly, but he preferred his own sorrows to the woes she discovered in other people. Mildred liked Forbes immensely, in a motherly, elder-sisterly, trained-nursish way. But of love between them there was no visible trace.

Tait grew fonder and fonder of Forbes as a son, but he could not contrive him as a son-in-law. The mating of human hearts, he found, was a task beyond diplomacy or politics. He wondered if he would have more success in promoting affection between America and France, the two republics that made each other possible. He wished that he had never undertaken any of his tasks. He felt old, ill, tired. He had agreed to take over the Embassy on the fifth of July. Hardly more than a week remained of his freedom, and that week was the big week of the year—the grande semaine.

He did not know that other dangers lurked in ambush ahead of himself. Mrs. Neff, ignorant of Stowe Webb's office, had come straight to Paris from the Imperator, bound to expose Alice again to the Senator's inspection. More dangerous yet was Winifred Mather. Tait had been warned of Mrs. Neff, but not of Winifred.

The heavy times in Wall Street had played havoc with Bob Fielding's means and with his spirits. The gradual jolting down and down of values, and the buying public's desertion of the market left the Stock Exchange like a neglected billiard parlor, where in the absence of customers the professionals played against one another—for points.

Bob Fielding was so big that when he was happy he was a Falstaff, but when he was unhappy he was a whale ashore. Winifred liked him happy. She grew weary of her blue Behemoth and began to think again of Senator Tait. She reasoned that he really needed a wife; it was a handicap to the Embassy to have only an elder daughter to run its social branch, especially such a daughter as Mildred, with her exasperating to-morrow's virtues and her last year's clothes. Winifred felt it her patriotic duty to marry the Embassy over.

She had a widowed sister in Paris, Mrs. Mather Edgecumbe. With her as complotter and under her Ægis Winifred attacked Senator Tait in a campaign so skilfully arranged under so many disguises that Tait was left hardly a minute to himself. All his invitations included Forbes and Mildred and young Stowe Webb.

At one of them, a night fÊte in Mrs. Mather Edgecumbe's house in the Rue de Monceau, with musicians in Persian costume playing in the garden under the illuminated trees, Mrs. Neff and Alice were included unbeknown to Winifred. She was aghast at the tactical mistake, and she was curt enough when Alice, hastening as usual in one direction and looking in another, ran into her.

"Oh, it's you Alice. How are you? I didn't know you were in Paris. Followed the Senator over, I suppose."

"I suppose so," said Alice. "Did you?"

"Where's your mother?"

"She's probably looking for me. I hope she doesn't find me. Have you seen Stowe?"

"Somewhere," said Winifred, with a perceptible thaw. "Does your mother know he's here?"

"If she did, should I be here?" Alice giggled, and laughter bubbled from Winifred, too. It continued with increase as Alice went on: "The Senator and I have come to a perfect understanding. He knows I don't love him, and that I do love Stowe. He gave Stowe his job as a starter to get me with. Yes, he did! My awful mother, of course, is always conspiring to leave the Senator alone with me. Sends us driving and Louvre-ing together. Well, that angel man, the Senator, just waits till mama is safely out of sight, then he notifies Stowe and goes away about his business and leaves us together."

"Oh, then the Senator's devotion for you is all for Stowe's sweet sake?" and there was a rapturous little break in Winifred's voice.

"Of course. Isn't he an angel?"

"He is, indeed!" said Winifred, with a sigh of relief so deep that Alice stared at her in surprise and exclaimed:

"Why, do you really want him?"

Winifred bridled as proudly as she could, but Alice only gasped: "Heavens! here comes that awful mother of mine. Don't give me away!" And she fled from tree to tree.

There was small risk that Winifred would violate the secret left with her, and she greeted Mrs. Neff with an unprecedented smile when she swept into the arbor and found there the last person on earth she would have wished to see.

"Why, it's Winifred Mather!" was her undeniable affirmation. "So you are in Paris!"

"Yes, dear. Did you bring dear Alice to Paris with you?"

"I was just going to ask if you had seen her."

Winifred lied with the glibness of long training:

"No, indeed. But I'd love to. Let's look for her."

And she took Mrs. Neff's sharp elbow in her fat hand, and led her in the wrong direction. A moment later she whirled her away from an alley of roses where Stowe Webb was blundering along in such eager search of Alice that he would have walked into her mother but for Winifred's alertness as a chauffeuse.

"She's here somewhere," Mrs. Neff was saying as her eyes ransacked the glittering crowd. "I snatched her away from America to keep her from the possibility of meeting that young Webb."

"What a very clever idea!" said Winifred, and she began to laugh so helplessly that Mrs. Neff grew suspicious. But having no clue to work on, she changed the subject:

"Persis and Willie are here, I see."

"Are they? I telegraphed the dear girl an invitation, but I was afraid she was stuck in London."

"She came over for the Prix des Drags to-morrow."

"How does the poor child look after—after honeymooning with Willie; Heaven help her!—and him!"

"She looks—oh, of course, she's still our dear beautiful Persis, but Willie, of course, is the same dear little dam-phool. Alice's maid, the Irish one, said Persis looked like her heart was dead in her, the creature. She had it from his man that Willie and she get along like the monkey and the parrot. But, of course, one can't listen to servants."

"No, of course not; though God knows what we'd do for news without 'em."

As they entered the house Mrs. Neff saw Forbes. He was in his military full dress, and he was standing alone in a reverie. He was as solitary in the crowd as if he were a statue on a battle-field gazing through eyes of bronze.

"There's our little snojer man," said Winifred.

"So it is," said Mrs. Neff, struggling toward him through a sort of panic of complexly moving groups. "How is the dear boy? Paris has swept him off his feet, eh?"

"He's the melancholiest man here—the ghost of the boulevards."

"It's too bad," said Mrs. Neff. "He was the man for Persis." She reached his side, took his hand, and laughed up into his face. He came out of a dream and stared at her foggily, then answered the warm clench of her little fingers. She said:

"And what are you staring at so hard?—Mrs. Enslee?"

He started at the name—"Mrs. Enslee?"

"Yes, Persis. You haven't forgotten her so soon?"

"Oh no, of course not. But she isn't here?"

"Oh yes, she is, with her brand-new husband."

"Really," he said, trying to sound casual, though the warning of her nearness frightened him and put his heart to its paces.

"I'll never forgive you for not marrying her after you flirted with her so dreadfully."

"Did I?" he laughed, wretchedly. "And you say she's in Paris?"

"She's right behind you."

Forbes felt as a man feels when some one says, "There's a rattlesnake just back of you." He became an automaton of wax and turned slowly as on a creaking pivot. Yes, there she was. Persis had just come in with her husband. The news, and the presence of the man at her side, sent a shudder through Forbes. The Enslees had happened upon Ambassador Tait, and Forbes could see that the old man was struggling hard to be decently polite to them.

Persis caught sight of Forbes, and her beautiful brows went up as she smiled. He had an intuition that her look was an appeal for mercy. Then she moved on with Willie, to lay off her cloak.

Tait, glancing about, saw Forbes and came to him at once. Mrs. Neff, seeing him, forgot the study she was making of Forbes' emotions. She demanded of Tait: "Have you seen Alice? I hoped she was with you."

"No, I haven't seen her to-night," he answered guilelessly, forgetting his rÔle in his excitement.

"Then I must look for her. Come along, Winifred. I can't run about alone."

Winifred did not want to come along, but Mrs. Neff did not intend to leave the Senator in her clutches. She ran her arm through Winifred's and dragged her away.

Then Tait took Forbes by the arm and spoke with a curious sick thickness: "Let's get out into the air a minute."

Forbes was alarmed by his tone and by the prominence of the veins about his forehead and throat. They walked into the garden filled with soft lantern lights like luminous flowers, the moon over all and the strangely zestful air of Paris like an intoxicant. The orchestra in the garden was just finishing a tune, and the orchestra in the house was just beginning an American tango played with a marked French accent. They found a marble seat in a green niche where it was yet too early for flirts to be found.

"Well, Harvey, she's here—that damned woman—and her toy husband."

Forbes smarted under the hatred the man he loved bore for the woman he loved, and when the Ambassador, trying to be cheerful, spoke hopefully, "But, then, that flame has smoldered out, hasn't it?" Forbes only sighed:

"Oh, I think so—I hope so!"

"What's this? What's this?" Tait gasped. "Are you still at her mercy—her mercy?"

Forbes made a gesture of distress: "I don't know! The thought of her has never left me. The sight of her again hurts like the bullet I got in that first brush with the Spanish. And she doesn't look happy. There was a shadow over her."

"There ought to be," Tait grumbled. "She's a cold-blooded, mercenary, calculating—"

"Don't!" Forbes pleaded, but the old man raged on.

"She sold herself to a man she didn't love. She's to blame for—"

"The older I grow," Forbes interposed, "the less I feel that people deserve either blame or praise for being what they are or doing what they do."

"Don't waste your pity on her; she had none for you."

"It's not pity—it's—"

Tait clapped his hand to his left side and choked back a cry of distress. Forbes turned to him with an exclamation of alarm. "You ought to see your doctor."

Tait shook his head: "No, he'd only swear at me for disobeying him. I'm all right—if I can only avoid any excitement. Been going a little too hard. It's that damned dilated heart of mine. The doctor said I ought to be in bed to-night."

"Why did you come here then?"

"Oh, young Webb was afraid that Alice's mother would drag her home if she knew I was not about. But I'm a fool. This life is killing me. I ought to run down to Vichy or Evian for a few days."

"Yes; you mustn't delay any further."

"I'll go if you'll come with me, Harvey. For one thing, it will get you away from that woman."

"Oh, there's no danger from her," said Forbes. "She's married now."

Tait shrugged his shoulders: "That's when a woman is most dangerous. Young girls tied to their mother's apron-strings are risky enough, the Lord knows, but when a woman unhappily married meets an old lover who is still unmarried—humph, the weather doesn't last long as a topic of conversation. You come along with me."

Forbes felt doubly humiliated by his position. "I don't like the idea of running away from a woman."

"You're good enough soldier to know that there are times when it is cowardly not to run away. Do we go to Evian-les-Bains?"

"Yes. To-morrow, if you wish."

"Good! And I want you to promise not to see that woman at all to-night. There are a lot of sharp eyes about, and the gossips can work up a big trade on a very small capital. Will you promise?"

"You are needlessly worried."

"Harvey, I never believed in playing with fire. I haven't asked you many favors. Will you grant me this one?"

Forbes was almost filial in his obedience: "Why, of course I promise not to meet her if I can avoid it."

"Good!" Tait rose to his feet with some difficulty. He was weak and shaken with premonitions. When a man's heart races and misses fire he is filled with dismay. He paused to lay his hands on Forbes' shoulders and plead as if for forgiveness for his solicitude. "Harvey, you may think I'm an old fool, but if you didn't run away from this danger, in after years you might have been sorry that you didn't."

"I understand," said Forbes. "God bless you, I appreciate it. I shall always be grateful for all you've done for me."

"I've done nothing but make a crutch of you, used you to fill the place of my own boy. If only you could—but we won't talk of her. But if anything happens to me—"

"Nothing is going to happen to you."

"I know that, but if anything should, I—I want you to promise to take care of Mildred. She'll have money enough—and so will you. I've fixed that—but—she'll need somebody to—well, we'll talk it over at Evian. Let's go, home."

He moved on, leaning heavily on Forbes, but Winifred, seeing him about to escape, pounced on him and led him away in search of an imaginary diplomat.

Forbes, left alone, sank again on the marble bench, a prey to his thoughts. He felt that if he waited in this semi-obscurity he would not be discovered by Persis.

But she was hunting for him. She had eluded Willie, and appeared in the garden just as the Ambassador was being haled away. She paused to wait for Forbes to be alone, and at that moment her husband regained her side; she heard his voice.