this lonely place; the emphatic manner in which you requested--I may
almost say ordered--me to bring the wax mask here, suggest to my mind
that something must have happened. What is it? I am a woman, and my
curiosity must be satisfied. After the secrets you have trusted to me
already, you need not hesitate, I think, to trust me with one more."

"Perhaps not. The secret this time is, moreover, of no great importance.
You know that the wax mask you wore at the ball was made in a plaster
mold taken off the face of my brother's statue?"

"Yes, I know that."

"My brother has just returned to his studio; has found a morsel of the
plaster I used for the mold sticking in the hair of the statue; and
has asked me, as the person left in charge of his work-rooms, for an
explanation. Such an explanation as I could offer has not satisfied him,
and he talks of making further inquiries. Considering that it will be
used no more, I think it safest to destroy the wax mask, and I asked you
to bring it here, that I might see it burned or broken up with my own
eyes. Now you know all you wanted to know; and now, therefore, it is my
turn to remind you that I have not yet had a direct answer to the first
question I addressed to you when we met here. Have you brought the wax
mask with you, or have you not?"

"I have not."

"And why?"

Just as that question was put, Nanina felt the dog dragging himself free
of her grasp on his mouth. She had been listening hitherto with such
painful intensity, with such all-absorbing emotions of suspense, terror,
and astonishment, that she had not noticed his efforts to get away,
and had continued mechanically to hold his mouth shut. But now she was
aroused by the violence of his struggles to the knowledge that, unless
she hit upon some new means of quieting him, he would have his mouth
free, and would betray her by a growl.

In an agony of apprehension lest she should lose a word of the momentous
conversation, she made a desperate attempt to appeal to the dog's
fondness for her, by suddenly flinging both her arms round his neck, and
kissing his rough, hairy cheek. The stratagem succeeded. Scarammuccia
had, for many years past, never received any greater marks of his
mistress's kindness for him than such as a pat on the head or a present
of a lump of sugar might convey. His dog's nature was utterly confounded
by the unexpected warmth of Nanina's caress, and he struggled up
vigorously in her arms to try an