f the night, and passed speedily farther and fainter into
silence. The Prince was gone.

Madame von Rosen consulted her watch. She had still, she thought, time
enough for the tit-bit of her evening; and hurrying to the palace,
winged by the fear of Gondremark's arrival, she sent her name and a
pressing request for a reception to the Princess Seraphina. As the
Countess von Rosen unqualified, she was sure to be refused; but as an
emissary of the Baron's, for so she chose to style herself, she gained
immediate entry.

The Princess sat alone at table, making a feint of dining. Her cheeks
were mottled, her eyes heavy; she had neither slept nor eaten; even her
dress had been neglected. In short, she was out of health, out of looks,
out of heart, and hag-ridden by her conscience. The Countess drew a
swift comparison, and shone brighter in beauty.

"You come, madam, _de la part de Monsieur le Baron_," drawled the
Princess. "Be seated! What have you to say?"

"To say?" repeated Madame von Rosen. "O, much to say! Much to say that I
would rather not, and much to leave unsaid that I would rather say. For
I am like St. Paul, your Highness, and always wish to do the things I
should not. Well! to be categorical--that is the word?--I took the
Prince your order. He could not credit his senses. 'Ah,' he cried, 'dear
Madame von Rosen, it is not possible--it cannot be--I must hear it from
your lips. My wife is a poor girl misled, she is only silly, she is not
cruel.' '_Mon Prince_,' said I, 'a girl--and therefore cruel; youth
kills flies.'--He had such pain to understand it!"

"Madame von Rosen," said the Princess, in most steadfast tones, but with
a rose of anger in her face, "who sent you here, and for what purpose?
Tell your errand."

"O, madam, I believe you understand me very well," returned von Rosen.
"I have not your philosophy. I wear my heart upon my sleeve, excuse the
indecency! It is a very little one," she laughed, "and I so often change
the sleeve!"

"Am I to understand the Prince has been arrested?" asked the Princess,
rising.

"While you sat there dining!" cried the Countess, still nonchalantly
seated.

"You have discharged your errand," was the reply; "I will not detain
you."

"O no, madam," said the Countess, "with your permission, I have not yet
done. I have borne much this evening in your service. I have suffered. I
was made to suffer in your service." She unfolded her fan as she spoke.
Quick as her pulses