“What is it, Estelle?”

“Monsieur of the pretty face,” she said, in a whisper, “oh, so sad he was all dinner!—­regarding Miss Burgoyne, and she coquetting, oh, frightful, frightful!—­but it is all right now—­he was at the door when we come out—­he takes her hand—­’How you do, Miss Burgoyne?’—­’Oh, how you do, Mr. Miles?’—­and he leads her away before she can go to any one else.  And there—­away down there—­do you see them?  He has compensation, do you think?”

She drew Nina a little aside, and sang into her ear—­

     “—­Ce soir, as-tu vu
    La fille a notre maitre,
      D’un air resolu
    Guettant a sa fenetre? 
      Eh bien! qu’en dis tu? 
      —­Je dis que j’ai tout vu,
      Mais je n’ai rien cru;
      Je l’aime, je l’aime,
      Je l’aime quand meme!”

and then she broke into a malicious laugh.

“What are you two conspiring about, now?” Lionel asked—­from the bench on which he had carelessly seated himself, the better to enjoy his cigar.

“You must know the consequence of doing a good action, Leo,” Nina said to him.  “Do you see the black bushes—­yonder—­and the two figures?  Estelle says it is Miss Burgoyne and the young gentleman who would have been all alone but that you intercede.  Is he not owing a great deal to you?”

“Well, Nina, if there is any gratitude in woman’s bosom, Miss Burgoyne ought to be indebted to me too.  She has got her pretty dear.  I dare say he would have managed to procure a little interview with her, in some surreptitious way, in any case—­I dare say that was his intention in coming down; but now that he is one of the party, one of the guests, she can talk to him before every one.  And since I have been the means of bringing the pair of turtle-doves together, I hope they’re happy.”

“Ah, Leo, you do not understand,” Nina said to him—­for Miss Girond was now talking to Mr. Carey, who had come up.

“I don’t understand what?”

“You do not understand Miss Burgoyne,” said Nina.

“What don’t I understand about her, then?”

Nina shook her head.

“Why should I say?  You will not believe.  Perhaps she is grateful to you for bringing in that young man—­yes, perhaps—­but if she would rather have yourself to go and talk with her and be her companion before all those people?  Oh, you do not believe?  No, you are too modest—­as she is vain and jealous.  All during the dinner she was playing coquette, openly, for every one to see; Estelle says it was to pique the young man who came from the other room; no, Leo, it was not—­it was meant for you!”

“Oh, nonsense, Nina!—­I wasn’t thinking anything about her!”