rder to secure an
excuse for leaving her; his real motive, in her estimation, being a
sudden, disgraceful passion for a young and intriguing woman of the
middle classes.

That Monday evening, when Pierre entered the drawing-room, hung with
yellow brocatelle of a flowery Louis XIV pattern, he at once realised
that melancholy reigned in the dim light radiating from the lace-veiled
lamps. Benedetta and Celia, seated on a sofa, were chatting with Dario,
whilst Cardinal Sarno, ensconced in an arm-chair, listened to the
ceaseless chatter of the old relative who conducted the little Princess
to each Monday gathering. And the only other person present was Donna
Serafina, seated all alone in her wonted place on the right-hand side of
the chimney-piece, and consumed with secret rage at seeing the chair on
the left-hand side unoccupied--that chair which Morano had always taken
during the thirty years that he had been faithful to her. Pierre noticed
with what anxious and then despairing eyes she observed his entrance, her
glance ever straying towards the door, as though she even yet hoped for
the fickle one's return. Withal her bearing was erect and proud; she
seemed to be more tightly laced than ever; and there was all the wonted
haughtiness on her hard-featured face, with its jet-black eyebrows and
snowy hair.

Pierre had no sooner paid his respects to her than he allowed his own
worry to appear by inquiring whether they would not have the pleasure of
seeing Monsignor Nani that evening. Thereupon Donna Serafina could not
refrain from answering: "Oh! Monsignor Nani is forsaking us like the
others. People always take themselves off when they can be of service."

She harboured a spite against the prelate for having done so little to
further the divorce in spite of his many promises. Beneath his outward
show of extreme willingness and caressing affability he doubtless
concealed some scheme of his own which he was tenaciously pursuing.
However, Donna Serafina promptly regretted the confession which anger had
wrung from her, and resumed: "After all, he will perhaps come. He is so
good-natured, and so fond of us."

In spite of the vivacity of her temperament she really wished to act
diplomatically, so as to overcome the bad luck which had recently set in.
Her brother the Cardinal had told her how irritated he was by the
attitude of the Congregation of the Council; he had little doubt that the
frigid reception accorded to his niece's