The Lady and the Pirate

"It is the fate of genius to be cast aside," said I. "No doubt even I

shall be forgotten--even after my book on the culicidæ shall have

been completed."

"--So that," she went on, not noticing me, "there is that one point in

your favor."

"Then there is a chance?"

"Oh, yes, for me to study you as you once did me--as one of the

culicidæ, I presume. But if you would listen to reason, and end this

foolishness, and set us all ashore, why, I would be almost willing to

forgive you, and we might be friends again,--only friends, Harry, as

we once were. Why not, Harry?"

"You wheedle well," said I, "but you forget that what you ask is

impossible. I am Black Bart the Avenger, and the hand of every man is

against me. I am too deep in this adventure to end it here. Why? I did

not even dare go down-town for fear I might be arrested. Nothing

remains but further flight, and when you ask me to fly and leave you

here, you ask what is impossible."

She stood for a time silent, a trifle paler, her flowers fallen from

her hand, clearly unhappy, but clearly not yet beaten. "Come," said

she coldly, "we must not be brutal to Aunt Lucinda also. Let us go

back."

"Yes," said I, "now you have back your parole."

"I think I should like an artichoke for luncheon," said she.

"Vinaigrette, you know." And she passed aft, her head hidden by her

white parasol, but I knew with chin as high as though she were Marie

Antoinette herself. Nor did I feel much happier than had I been her

executioner.