little
woman, and just to prevent my having her you invite her to your palace
and forbid her to receive my visits. Worse than all, you have given
over your only unmortgaged property, Bondavara, to a swindling
company, who want to set themselves over me; and you have become their
president. You have schemed and jockeyed the government into giving
the guarantee for a railway that won't pay two per cent. You haven't
an idea how you are implicated in these transactions. I pity you--for
I have always felt esteem for you--and I intend to set myself the task
of regulating _your_ affairs some day. Meantime take care, for if I
succeed in upsetting the human pyramid upon whose shoulders you stand
the greatest _fall_ will be yours."

Of all this long harangue Prince Theobald only gathered the fact that
Angela had chosen the Marquis Salista for her husband, and had never
written to tell him. She let him hear it from another.

The Bondavara Railway was being pressed forward; it was nearly
finished. There was no further need for a woman's black-diamond eyes.
They had done their work. One day Eveline visited her husband. Felix
received her with apparent satisfaction.

"I have come," she said, "to ask you a question. Prince Theobald has
been for some days so sad; it is melancholy to see his distress. Have
you any idea of its cause?"

"I have. His granddaughter, the Countess Angela, is married, and her
husband, the Marquis Salista, is taking steps to put the prince under
restraint, on account of the foolish manner in which he is squandering
his fortune."

"And much of this foolish extravagance is spent on me."

"You are really wonderfully sharp, Eveline."

"I shall put an end to his spending his money on me. I shall tell the
prince that I must leave his palace. I shall be always grateful to
him; he has been a benefactor to me--and so have you. I ought to have
mentioned you first. You have had me educated; you have taught me a
great deal. I have to thank you for being what I am. I can earn my own
living, thanks to you. I mean to become a real artist. But I must
leave Vienna; I do not care to remain here any longer."

"I think, Eveline, you have decided well, and our minds have really a
wonderful sympathy. I was about to advise the very course to you. By
all means, leave Vienna; by all means, make use of your talents, and
take up work seriously. I shall continue to do my duty as your
husband. I shall take you to Paris; I shall s