irritated
him, with its brass fittings and all that it meant of married life and
irksome social obligation. He never carried a key, because the Roman
keys of those times were large and heavy; but he had been obliged to use
one formerly, when he had lived by himself. The necessity of ringing the
bell irritated him again, and he felt a nervous shock of unwillingness
as he pulled the brass knob. He set his teeth against the tinkling and
jangling that followed, and his eyelids quivered. Everything hurt him.
He did not feel sure of his hands when he wanted to use them. He was
inclined to strike the silent and respectful man-servant who opened the
door, merely because he was silent and respectful. He went straight to
his own dressing-room, and shut himself in. It would be a relief to
change his clothes. He and Gloria were to go to a reception in the
evening, and he would dress at once. In those days few Romans dressed
for dinner every day.

He dropped a stud, for his hands were shaking so that he could hardly
hold anything; and he groped for the thing on his knees. The blood went
to his head, and hurt him violently, as though he had received a blow.

Gloria's room was next to his, and she heard him moving about. She
knocked and tried the door, but it was locked; and she heard him utter
an exclamation of annoyance, as he hunted for the stud. She thought it
was meant for her, and turned angrily back from the door. On any other
day he would have called her, for he had heard her trying to get in. But
he shrugged his lean shoulders impatiently, glanced once towards her
room, found his stud, and went on dressing.

He really made an effort to get control of himself while he was alone.
But to all intents and purposes he was actually ill. His face was drawn
and sallow; his eyes were yellow and bloodshot; and there were deep,
twitching lines about his mouth. His nostrils moved spasmodically when
he drew breath, and his long thin hands fumbled helplessly at the studs
and buttons of his clothes. At last he was dressed, and went into the
drawing-room. Gloria was already there, waiting by the fireside, with an
injured and forbidding expression in her beautiful face.

Reanda came to the fireside, and stood there, spreading out his
trembling hands to the blaze. He dreaded the first word, as a man lying
ill of brain fever dreads each cracking explosion in a thunderstorm.
Strained as their relations had been for a long time, he had never
f