in reality leading a
double existence, being in one state when with the assembled family, and
in quite another when she was alone with Hermione.

Madame Patoff was able to force herself upon her niece, for the young
girl had given a promise not to betray her secret, and though often in
hard straits to elude her father's questions without falling into
falsehood, felt herself bound to her aunt, and obliged to submit to long
conversations with her. It was a difficult position, and any one less
honest than Hermione and less sensitively tactful would have found it
hard to maintain the balance. She herself avoided carefully all mention
of Paul, but her aunt delighted in talking of him. One of these
conversations took place on the evening of their arrival in
Constantinople, and may well serve as a specimen of the rest. When all
the party had retired for the night, Madame Patoff came into Hermione's
room and sat down, evidently with the intention of staying at least an
hour. Hermione looked at her with a deprecating expression, being indeed
very tired, and wishing that her aunt would put off her visit until the
next day. She saw, however, that there was no hope of this, and
submitted herself with a good grace.

"Are you not tired, aunt Annie?" asked the young girl.

"No, no, not very, my dear," said the old lady, smoothing her thick gray
hair with her hand, and fixing her dark eyes on her niece's face. "Oh,
Hermy, what a meeting!" she suddenly exclaimed. "If you knew how hard I
tried to be kind to him, I am sure you would pity me. It is so hard, so
hard!"

"It is the least you can do,--to treat him kindly," answered Hermione,
somewhat coldly. "But I was very glad to see that you kissed him when we
arrived."

"It was dreadfully hard to do it. The very sight of him freezes my
blood. Oh, Hermy dear, how can you love him so much, when I love you as
I do? It frightens me"----

"It does not frighten me, aunt Annie," said her niece. "I can say, when
you love me as you do, how can you not love him?"

"It is not the same, my dear. How could I love him, knowing what I
know?"

"You do not know it," answered Hermione very firmly, "and you must not
suggest it to me. Sometimes I could almost think you were really mad,
aunt Annie,--forgive me, I must say it. Not mad as you pretended to be,
but mad on this one point. You have always hated poor Paul since he was
a child, and you have treated him very unkindly. But you have no right
t