orrow of one kind--when she mus' be sure that
there is only--only rispec' in the hearts of her frien's."

With that, the intended revelation was complete, and the young man
understood, as clearly as if she had told him in so many words, that she
was not a widow and that her husband was the cause of her sorrow. His
quickened instinct marvelously divined (or else it was conveyed to him
by some intangible method of hers) that the Count de Vaurigard was a
very bad case, but that she would not divorce him.

"I know," he answered, profoundly touched. "I understand."

In silent gratitude she laid her hand for a second upon his sleeve. Then
her face brightened, and she said gayly:

"But we shall not talk of _me!_ Let us see how we can keep you out of
mischief at leas' for a little while. I know very well what you will do
to-night: you will go to Salone Margherita an' sit in a box like all the
wicked Americans--"

"No, indeed, I shall not!"

"Ah, yes, you will!" she laughed. "But until dinner let me keep you from
wickedness. Come to tea jus' wiz me, not at the hotel, but at the little
apartment I have taken, where it is quiet. The music is finish', an' all
those pretty girl' are goin' away, you see. I am not selfish if I take
you from the Pincio now. You will come?"

III. Glamour

It was some fair dream that would be gone too soon, he told himself, as
they drove rapidly through the twilight streets, down from the Pincio
and up the long slope of the Quirinal. They came to a stop in the gray
courtyard of a palazzo, and ascended in a sleepy elevator to the fifth
floor. Emerging, they encountered a tall man who was turning away
from the Countess' door, which he had just closed. The landing was not
lighted, and for a moment he failed to see the American following Madame
de Vaurigard.

"Eow, it's you, is it," he said informally. "Waitin' a devil of a long
time for you. I've gawt a message for you. _He's_ comin'. He writes that
Cooley--"

_"Attention!"_ she interrupted under her breath, and, stepping forward
quickly, touched the bell. "I have brought a frien' of our dear, droll
Cooley with me to tea. Monsieur Mellin, you mus' make acquaintance with
Monsieur Sneyd. He is English, but we shall forgive him because he is a
such ole frien' of mine."

"Ah, yes," said Mellin. "Remember seeing you on the boat, running across
the pond."

"Yes, ev coss," responded Mr. Sneyd cordially. "I wawsn't so fawchnit
as to meet you