tler, almost humble. A
nervous tremor shook her continually.

She took her cloak from the chair and Andrea hastened to assist her. As
she did not succeed in finding the armholes, Andrea guided her hand to
it but scarcely touched her. He then offered her her hat and veil.
'There is a looking-glass in the next room if you would like----'

'No, thank you.' She went over beside the fireplace, where on the wall
hung a quaint little old mirror in a frame surrounded by little figures,
carved in so airy and vivacious a style that they seemed rather to be of
malleable gold than of wood. It was a charming thing, the work doubtless
of some delicate artist of the fifteenth century and designed to reflect
the charms of some Mona Amorrosisca or some Laldomine. Many a time in
the old happy days Elena had put on her veil in front of this dim, lack
lustre mirror. She remembered it again now.

On seeing her reflection rise out of its misty depths she was stirred by
a singular emotion. A rush of profound sadness came over her. She did
not speak.

All this time Andrea was watching her intently.

Her preparations concluded, she said, 'It must be very late.'

'Not very--about six o'clock, I think.'

'I sent away my carriage. I would be very grateful if you could send for
a closed cab for me.'

'Will you excuse me then if I leave you alone for a moment? My servant
is out.'

She assented. 'And please tell the man yourself where to go to--the
Hotel Quirinal.'

He went out and shut the door behind him. She was alone.

She cast a rapid glance around her, embracing the whole room with an
indefinable look that lingered on the vases of flowers. The room seemed
to her larger, the ceiling higher than she remembered. She began to feel
a little giddy. She did not notice the scent of the flowers any longer,
but the atmosphere of the room was close and heavy as in a hot-house.
Andrea's image appeared to her in a sort of intermittent flashes--a
vague echo of his voice rang in her ears. Was she going to faint?--Oh,
the delight of it if she might close her eyes and abandon herself to
this languor!

She gave herself a little shake and went over to one of the windows,
which she opened, and let the breeze blow in her face. Somewhat revived
by this she turned back into the room. The pale flame of the candles
sent flickering shadows over the walls. The fire burned low but sufficed
to light up in part the pious figures on the screen made of stained