the napkin, deftly arranged the tea-things.

"It is a little dull, my lady."

"How is the glass?"

"Falling steadily, my lady."

"I cannot remain here."

"No, my lady?"

"Find out about the trains south--to Naples."

"Yes, my lady. We can join the Roman express at Chiusi. When does your
ladyship wish to start?"

"I must telegraph first."

"Certainly, my lady."

Charles produced telegraph forms. It was Helen's boast that, upon
request, the man could produce any known object from a packet of pins
to a white elephant, or fully manned battleship. She had a lively
regard for her servant's ability. So had he, it may be added, for that
of his mistress. The telegram was written and despatched. But the reply
took four days in reaching Madame de Vallorbes, and during those days
it rained incessantly. The said reply came in the form of a letter. Sir
Richard Calmady was at Constantinople, so the writer--Bates, his
steward--had reason to believe. But it was probable he would return to
Naples shortly. Meanwhile he--the steward--had permanent orders to the
effect that the villa was at Madame de Vallorbes' disposition should
she at any time express the wish to visit it. She would find everything
prepared for her reception. This information caused Helen singular
satisfaction. It was very charming, very courteous, of Richard thus to
remember her. She set forth from Perugia full of ingenious purpose,
deliciously light of heart.

Thus did it come about that, on the afore-mentioned gay, spring
morning, Madame de Vallorbes breakfasted beneath the glistering dome of
the airy pavilion, all Naples outstretched before her, while the
blossoms of the Judas-trees fell in a red-mauve shower upon the slabs
of the marble pavement, and the mimic waves of the fountain basin, and
upon the clustered curls and truncated shoulders of the bust of Homer
stationed within the soft gloom of the ilex and cypress grove. She had
arrived the previous evening, and had met with a dignified welcome from
the numerous household. Her manner was gracious, kindly,
captivating--she intended it to be all that. She slept well, rose in
buoyant health and spirits, partook of a meal offering example of the
most finished Italian cooking. Finish, in any department, appealed to
Helen's artistic sense. Life was sweet--moreover it was supremely
interesting! Her breakfast ended, rising from her place at table, she
looked away to the purple cone of the great volcano and