"_Merci, mon ami_," she said. "You may kiss my hand when you leave me."
"Only your hand?" I asked.
"Not even that, now," she retorted--then turned and leaned against the
hedge.
Two men were coming down the path toward us.
"Here are the other twin Knaves," she said.
And it was true enough--they were as alike as Moore and myself; only,
they wore white satin small clothes and powdered perukes. They were in
earnest conversation, but broke off as they neared us.
"_Parbleu_!" exclaimed the man with us. "There seems to be a plague of
twins to-night."
One of the White Masques made as though to halt, but the other
whispered something and tried to draw him on.
Our fellow laughed irritatingly, and waved his hand toward Moore and me.
"We've got a pair of Knaves here, also," he bantered; "perchance, the
four of you are from the same pack."
The White Masque turned quickly. "Then it would be a pack, monsieur,
in which you would be about equal to the deuce," he said.
"Or the joker," said the other, as they moved away, "which, in a
gentleman's game, has no place."
Our man made a quick step toward them; but Moore caught him sharply by
the shoulder.
"Let them go," he said curtly.
The other hesitated--then shrugged his shoulders.
"For the present be it, then," he said.
"And, look you, sir," Moore went on; "I do not know you, but, if you
will take my poor advice, you will let it be for the future, too." He
offered his arm to his companion. "Mademoiselle, shall we continue the
stroll?"
"What a queer speech," said my Masque, "one might almost fancy they
were of royal rank."
"The King, possibly," I suggested.
"Nonsense, monsieur; you know perfectly well His Majesty is not in
Dornlitz."
"The Duke of Lotzen and the American Archduke, then."