as silent. She guessed his thoughts. She knew men so well. Men
had been her special study. Nera was only twenty-four, but she was
clever, and would have excelled in any thing she pleased. To draw men
to her, as the magnet draws the needle, was the passion of her life;
whether she cared for them or not, to draw them. Not to succeed argued
a want of skill. That maddened her. She was keen and hot upon the
scent, knocking over her man as a sportsman does his bird, full in
the breast. Her aim was marriage. Count Nobili would have suited
her exactly. She had felt for him a warmth that rarely quickened her
pulses. Nobili had evaded her. But revenge is sweet. Now his hour is
come.

"Count Nobili"--Nera's tempting looks spoke more than words--"come and
sit down by me." She signed to him to place himself upon the sofa.

Nobili rose as she bade him. He came upon his fate without a word.
Seated so near to Nera, he gazed into her starry eyes, and felt it did
him good.

"You look ill," Nera said, tuning her voice to a tone of tender pity;
"you have grown older too since I last saw you. Is it love, or grief,
or jealousy, or what?"

Nobili heaved a deep sigh. His hand, which rested near hers, slipped
forward, and touched her fingers. Nera withdrew them to smooth
the braids of her glossy hair. While she did so she scanned Nobili
closely. "You are not a triumphant lover, certainly. What is the
matter?"

"You are very good to care," answered Nobili, sighing again, gazing
into her face; "once I thought that my fate did touch you."

"Yes, once," Nera rejoined. "Once--long ago." She gave an airy laugh
that grated on Nobili's ears. "But we meet so seldom."

"True, true," he answered hurriedly, "too seldom." His manner was
most constrained. It was plain his mind was running upon some unspoken
thought.

"Yes," Nera said. "Spite of your absence, however you make yourself
remembered. You give us so much to talk of! Such a succession of
surprises!"

One by one Nera's phrases dropped out, suggesting so much behind.

Nobili, greatly excited, felt he must speak or flee.

"I must confess," she added, giving a stealthy glance out of the
corners of her eyes, "you have surprised me. When do you bring your
wife home, Count Nobili?" As Nera asked this question she bent over
Nobili, so that her breath just swept his heated cheek.

"Never, perhaps!" cried Nobili, wildly. He could contain himself no
longer. His heart beat almost to bursting. A