“As if you, also, had not lost your heart!” exclaimed Hyde.

“No, sir!  I have exchanged mine for its full value.  Where are you going?”

“With you.”

“In a word, no.  For I am going to Aunt Angelica’s.”

“Upon my honour, it is to your Aunt Angelica’s I desire to go most of all!”

“Now I understand.  You have found out that Cornelia Moran is going there.  Are you still harping on that string?  And Cornelia never said one word to me.  I do not approve of such deceit.  In my love affairs I have always been open as the day.”

“I assure you that I did not know Miss Moran was going there.  I had not a thought of Madame Jacobus until we met.  To tell the very truth, I came into town to look for you.”

“For me?  And why, pray?”

“I want to see Miss Moran.  If I cannot see her, then I want to hear about her.  I thought you, of all people, could tell me the most and the best.  I assured myself that you had infinite good temper.  Now, pray do not disappoint me.”

“Listen!  We meet this afternoon at my aunt’s, to discuss the dresses and ceremonies proper for a very fine wedding.”

“For your own wedding, in fact—­Is not that so?”

“Well, then?”

“Well, then, who knows more on that subject than Joris Hyde?  Was I not, last year, at Lady Betty Somer’s splendid nuptials; and at Fanny Paget’s, and the Countess of Carlisle’s?  Indeed, I maintain that in such a discussion I am an absolute necessity.  And I wish to know Madame Jacobus.  I have long wished to know her.  Upon my honour, I think her to be one of the most interesting women in New York!”

“I will advise you a little.  Save your compliments until you can say them to my aunt.  I never carry a word to any one.”

“Then take me with you, and I will repeat them to her face.”

“So?  Well, then, here we are, at her very door.  I know not what she will say—­you must make your own excuses, sir.”

As she was speaking, they ascended the white steps leading to a very handsome brick house on the west side of Broadway.  It had wide iron piazzas and a fine shady garden at the back, sloping down to the river bank; and had altogether, on the outside, the very similitude of a wealthy and fashionable residence.  The door was opened by a very dark man, who was not a negro, and who was dressed in a splendid and outlandish manner—­a scarlet turban above his straight black hair, and gold-hooped earrings, and a long coat or tunic, heavily embroidered in strange devices.

“He was an Algerine pirate,” whispered Arenta.  “My Uncle Jacob brought him here—­and my aunt trusts him—­I would not, not for a moment.”