could have
shouted it out of the windows. She coaxed and fondled Wilhelm, called
him by every endearing name, drew him over to the long mirror that he
might see how handsome he was, dragged him into his room and then back
into the bedroom, and required a considerable time to recover her
self-control.

Meanwhile it had grown dark. She did not notice it till now, and rang
for Anne to bring lamps.

"Has Don Pablo come back?" she asked of the maid.

"Half an hour ago, madame."

"Then send up the boxes at once."

"You have sent for the luggage already?" was Wilhelm's astonished
inquiry when Anne had left the room.

"Naturally, my darling. I was certain, you know, that you would not
break your Pilar's heart."

Auguste and the man whom Pilar called Don Pablo now carried up the one
small box and two large ones Wilhelm always took about with him. Pilar
asked him for the keys, and proceeded to put away his belongings in the
various receptacles of the room. She would not suffer him to help her.
Only his books she allowed him to pile up in a corner for the present;
their orderly arrangement in the bookcase was put off till the daylight.

At dinner Pilar was in the seventh heaven, and more in love than ever
before. In her wild spirits she threw all her glasses into the garden,
and would only drink out of Wilhelm's. It was a real banquet: costly
Spanish wines, red and white, rough and sweet, from her well-stocked
cellar, accompanied by choice dishes, and finally champagne, of which
Pilar partook--valiantly. After dessert she skipped into the salon, put
the champagne glass down on the piano, and between sips and kisses
played and sang Spanish love-songs that drove the flames to her cheeks.
That evening she was all Bacchante. In the bedroom she tore off her
clothes with impatient fingers, and held out her small, high-bred feet
for Wilhelm to pull off her silk stockings. He knelt and kissed the
little feet, while she gazed down at him with burning misty eyes, and
between the blood-red lips slightly parted in a wanton smile gleamed
pearly teeth that looked as if they could bite with satisfaction into a
quivering heart. It was the Sphinx and the poor trembling mouse in the
dust before her to the life.

When Wilhelm awoke next morning, he saw Pilar standing all fresh and
ready at the bedside to greet him with a happy smile. With her iron
nerves and superabundant animal strength, she required but little
sleep, and had at once re