her, even as I had loved her--she who was
unworthy of any love! I controlled my rising emotion, and merely said
with gravity:

"I congratulate you! May I be permitted to see this document?"

"Certainly; I can show it to you now. I have it here," and she drew a
Russia-leather letter-case from her pocket, and opening it, handed me a
sealed envelope. "Break the seal!" she added, with childish eagerness.
"He closed it up like that after I had read it."

With reluctant hand, and a pained piteousness at my heart, I opened the
packet. It was as she had said, a will drawn up in perfectly legal
form, signed and witnessed, leaving everything UNCONDITIONALLY to
"Nina, Countess Romani, of the Villa Romani, Naples." I read it through
and returned it to her.

"He must have loved you!" I said.

She laughed.

"Of course," she said, airily. "But many people love me--that is
nothing new; I am accustomed to be loved. But you see," she went on,
reverting to the will again, "it specifies, 'EVERYTHING HE DIES
POSSESSED OF;' that means all the money left to him by his uncle in
Rome, does it not?"

I bowed. I could not trust myself to speak.

"I thought so," she murmured, gleefully, more to herself than to me;
"and I have a right to all his papers and letters." There she paused
abruptly and checked herself.

I understood her. She wanted to get back her own letters to the dead
man, lest her intimacy with him should leak out in some chance way for
which she was unprepared. Cunning devil! I was almost glad she showed
me to what a depth of vulgar vice she had fallen. There was no question
of pity or forbearance in HER case. If all the tortures invented by
savages or stern inquisitors could be heaped upon her at once, such
punishment would be light in comparison with her crimes--crimes for
which, mark you, the law gives you no remedy but divorce. Tired of the
wretched comedy, I looked at my watch.

"It is time for me to take my leave of you," I said, in the stiff,
courtly manner I affected. "Moments fly fast in your enchanting
company! But I have still to walk to Castellamare, there to rejoin my
carriage, and I have many things to attend to before my departure this
evening. On my return from Avellino shall I be welcome?"

"You know it," she returned, nestling her head against my shoulder,
while for mere form's sake I was forced to hold her in a partial
embrace. "I only wish you were not going at all. Dearest, do not stay
long away--