t a gentleman. Better is he? Well, he's rather too insignificant for
me. Why do you sit off there? Come to me instantly. There--I'll sit up,
and be proper, and you'll have plenty of room. Talk, Dick!"

He was reflecting on the fact that her eyes were brown. They had a
haughty sparkle when she pleased, and when she pleased a soft languor
circled them. Excitement had dyed her cheeks deep red. He was a youth,
and she an enchantress. He a hero; she a female will-o'-the-wisp.

The eyes were languid now, set in rosy colour.

"You will not leave me yet, Richard? not yet?"

He had no thought of departing:

"It's our last night--I suppose it's our last hour together in this
world--and I don't want to meet you in the next, for poor Dick will have
to come to such a very, very disagreeable place to make the visit."

He grasped her hand at this.

"Yes, he will! too true! can't be helped: they say I'm handsome."

"You're lovely, Bella."

She drank in his homage.

"Well, we'll admit it. His Highness below likes lovely women, I hear say.
A gentleman of taste! You don't know all my accomplishments yet,
Richard."

"I shan't be astonished at anything new, Bella."

"Then hear, and wonder." Her voice trolled out some lively roulades.
"Don't you think he'll make me his prima donna below? It's nonsense to
tell me there's no singing there. And the atmosphere will be favourable
to the voice. No damp, you know. You saw the piano--why didn't you ask me
to sing before? I can sing Italian. I had a master--who made love to me.
I forgave him because of the music-stool--men can't help it on a
music-stool, poor dears!"

She went to the piano, struck the notes, and sang--

"'My heart, my heart--I think 'twill break.'

"Because I'm such a rake. I don't know any other reason. No; I hate
sentimental songs. Won't sing that. Ta-tiddy-tiddy-iddy--a...e! How
ridiculous those women were, coming home from Richmond!

'Once the sweet romance of story
Clad thy moving form with grace;
Once the world and all its glory
Was but framework to thy face.
Ah, too fair!--what I remember
Might my soul recall--but no!
To the winds this wretched ember
Of a fire that falls so low!'

"Hum! don't much like that. Tum-te-tum-tum--accanto al fuoco--heigho! I
don't want to show off, Dick--or to break down--so I won't try that.

'Oh! but for thee, oh! but for thee,
I might h