d whip. "The poor child will not be present. She is in such a
strange mood since she went to live with her grandfather, and so
carefully avoids meeting any one who knew her under former
circumstances, that all the power in the world could not induce her to
visit our Paradise. But seriously, now--_a Dios_, as we Spaniards say.
Be of good courage; I believe everything will turn out better than we
dream of now."

He gave the hand of the speechless girl a hearty pressure, and left her
alone with her aching heart, which found that it could do nothing wiser
than relieve itself by a flood of tears.

CHAPTER III.

It so happened that, in another room of the same house, and at almost
exactly the same hour, the pleasures of the masquerade in Paradise
formed the subject of conversation.

For some weeks past Rosenbusch had intended to make inquiries
concerning the health of his Russian patroness, who, as he knew, was
confined to her room by a slight injury to her foot. He felt it
incumbent on him to show himself a young man who respected the laws of
politeness and society, although he was a disciple of the liberal arts.

He found the countess in her bedroom, which smelled of Russian leather
and cigarettes. A samovar and an empty champagne bottle stood on the
table by the bed, and all kinds of note-books, portfolios, French
books, and photographs lay about upon the chairs. Nelida reclined upon
the bed, robed in a long silk dressing-gown, with a black point-lace
veil thrown nun-fashion over her dark hair. She looked paler than in
the summer, and, as she extended her white hand to the painter with a
gracious smile, he was forced to admit to himself that she perfectly
understood the art of making as much capital as possible out of her
suffering condition, and of appearing still more interesting in her
enforced quiet than in her usual activity.

She was not alone. The retired singer, who appeared to be regularly
installed as her companion, and who was at the moment engaged in the
back part of the room in poking the fire in the grate, had been sitting
in the chair which was now offered to Rosenbusch.

Opposite the bed, in a low arm-chair, sat a younger lady, whom
Rosenbusch had not seen before, and who immediately attracted his
artistic eye. Was she a married woman or a girl? The countess did not
mention her name. But, although the soft fullness of her figure seemed
rather to indicate the mat