t--and of trailing, peacock feathers, a couple of
shades lighter than the crocus-yellow ground. The light took the
over-threads and stayed in them.

The window stood wide open on to the balcony, the elaborately
wrought-ironwork of which--scroll and vase, plunging dolphin and
rampant sea-horse--detached itself from the opaque background of the
night. And in at the window came luscious scents from the garden below,
a chime of falling water, the music, faint and distant, in rising and
falling cadence of a marching military band. In at it also, and rising
superior to all these in imperativeness and purpose, came the voice of
Naples itself--no longer that of a city of toil and commerce, but that
of a city of pleasure, a city of licence, until such time as the dawn
should once again break, and the sun arise, driving back man and beast
alike to labour, the one from merry sinning, the other from hard-earned
sleep. And once again, but in clearer, more urgent, accents, the voice
of the city repeated its message to Helen de Vallorbes, calling aloud
to her to do even as it was doing, namely, to wed--to wed. And, hearing
it, understanding that message, for a little space shame took her, in
face both of its and her own shamelessness, so that she closed her
eyes, unable for the moment to look at Richard Calmady as he crossed
the great room in that bland and yet generous light. But, almost
immediately, his voice, cold and measured in tone, there close beside
her, claimed her attention.

"That which you said at dinner rather distresses me, Helen."

Then, shame or no shame, Madame de Vallorbes, of necessity, opened her
eyes. And, so doing, it needed all her self-control to repress a cry.
She forced her open hands down very hard on the mattress of the sofa.
For Richard leaned his back against the jamb of the open window, and
she saw his face and all his poor figure in profile. His left hand hung
straight at his side, the tips of his fingers only just not touching
the floor. And again, as at midday the spectacle of his deformity
worked upon her strangely.

"What of all that which I said at dinner distresses you?" she asked
gently, with sudden solicitude.

"You showed me that I have been a wretchedly negligent host."--In
speaking, the young man turned his head and looked at her, paused a
moment, almost startled by her resplendent aspect. Then he looked down
at his own stunted and defective limbs. His expression became very
grim. He ra