“Give it to me,” I said; “it shall be my badge of service.”

“You will serve me, then?” said she.

“For what reward?”

“Why, the rose!”

“I should like the owner too,” I ventured to remark.

“The rose is prettier than the owner,” she said; “and, at any rate, one thing at a time, Mr. Martin!  Do you pay your servants all their wages in advance?”

My practice was so much the contrary that I really couldn’t deny the force of her reasoning.  She held out the rose.  I seized it and pressed it close to my lips, thereby squashing it considerably.

“Dear me,” said the signorina, “I wonder if I had given you the other thing whether you would have treated it so roughly.”

“I’ll show you in a moment,” said I.

“Thank you, no, not just now,” she said, showing no alarm, for she knew she was safe with me.  Then she said abruptly: 

“Are you a Constitutionalist or a Liberal, Mr. Martin?”

I must explain that, in the usual race for the former title, the President’s party had been first at the post, and the colonel’s gang (as I privately termed it) had to put up with the alternative designation.  Neither name bore any relation to facts.

“Are we going to talk politics?” said I reproachfully.

“Yes, a little; you see we got to an impasse on the other topic.  Tell me.”

“Which are you, signorina?” I asked.

I really wanted to know; so did a great many people.

She thought for a moment, and then said: 

“I have a great regard for the President.  He has been most kind to me.  He has shown me real affection.”

“The devil he has!” I muttered.

“I beg your pardon?” said she.

“I only said, ‘Of course he has.’  The President has the usual complement of eyes.”

The signorina smiled again, but went on as if I hadn’t spoken.

“On the other hand, I cannot disguise from myself that some of his measures are not wise.”

I said I had never been able to disguise it from myself.

“The colonel, of course, is of the same opinion,” she continued.  “About the debt, for instance.  I believe your bank is interested in it?”

This was no secret, so I said: 

“Oh, yes, to a considerable extent.”

“And you?” she asked softly.

“Oh, I am not a capitalist! no money of mine has gone into the debt.”

“No money of yours, no.  But aren’t you interested in it?” she persisted.

This was rather odd.  Could she know anything?

She drew nearer to me, and, laying a hand lightly on my arm, said reproachfully: 

“Do you love people, and yet not trust them, Mr. Martin?”

This was exactly my state of feeling toward the signorina, but I could not say so.  I was wondering how far I should be wise to trust her, and that depended largely on how far his Excellency had seen fit to trust her with my secrets.  I finally said: