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to the pirates. They danced and flung about to the shrieking of flutes as though their feet did not sound on the grave of Panama at all. They, dear economists, were gaining back some of the lost treasure, using a weapon more slow, but no less sure, than the sword.

In a corner of the warehouse sat The Burgundian and his one-armed protector.

“See, Emil! That one there— Consider to yourself her hips now!”

“I see her, 'Toine, and it is good of you. Do not think I do not appreciate your trouble for my pleasure. But I am silly enough to have an ideal, even in copulation. This proves to me that I am still an artist, if not a gentleman.”

“But see, Emil. Notice for a moment the fullness of her bosom.”

“No, 'Toine; I see nothing that endangers my rose pearl. I will keep it by me a while yet.”

“But, really, my friend, I think you lose your sense of beauty. Where is that careful eye we used to fear so on our canvases?”

“The eye is here, 'Toine. It is still here. It is your own little eye which makes nymphs of brown mares.”

“Then— Then, Emil, since you persist in your blindness, perhaps you would condescend to loan me your rose pearl. There— I thank you. I shall return it presently.”

Grippo was seated in the middle of the floor, sullenly counting the buttons on his sleeve.

“—eight, nine— There were ten. Some bastard