you have not been melting into tears over the duke's death--nor
yet for Giovanni's departure?"

"How do you know about it? Aunt Eleanor didn't tell you, did she? Is
the news of the duke's death out?"

Zoya's raised eyebrows expressed satisfaction, and she exclaimed
triumphantly: "I knew I was right! Really, it is extraordinary how
things come about! No one has told me a word. Yet the whole story
unrolled itself in front of me. Listen"--she interrupted herself long
enough to light a cigarette, then sat down tailor fashion on the foot of
the lounge--"I was but a moment ago at the station--my sister went back
to Russia this morning. As I was leaving, whom did I see but Giovanni
being piloted down the trainway! He looked really ill, and it would have
struck any one as strange that he should be traveling. Then all at once
I thought to myself, 'Hm, Hm! Signore il duca has descended into the
next world, and the one who sent him there is being banished into the
next country!' Thereupon I thought further, 'That child of a Nina will
be hiding her head under the pillows of her bed'--exactly as you have
been doing! How do I know? Look at your hair, and look at the
pillows--and here I am to scold you!"

Nina looked at her in amazement. "You have put it all together, you
wonderful Zoya! Compared to you, I never seem to see anything! Oh, but
this whole day has been full of horrible surprises. I never dreamed what
sort of man Giovanni is--and yet I can't help feeling sorry to think of
his being sent off ill and alone!"

"How _very_ pathetic!" exclaimed Zoya sarcastically. "It is the very
saddest thing I have ever heard of." Then her tone changed. "I would not
waste too much sympathy on him for his loneliness, however," she said
briskly, "as he has a very charming companion, who, if accounts are
true, is not only diverting but devoted. That spoils your sad picture
somewhat, does it not?"

"The Potensi!" escaped Nina's lips before she knew it.

Zoya blew rings of smoke unperturbed. "So you have found _that_ out,
have you?"

Nina colored with indignation. "Have you known that, too, and never told
me? Zoya, you call yourself my friend!"

But Zoya met Nina's glance squarely, as she asked in turn: "What
difference does it make? Though, for that matter, I've made it plain all
winter; any one but a baby would have understood long ago. But after
all, why such an excitement over such a commonplace fact?" Then, with
far more interest,