stasteful to him. 'I remember you,' he said. 'I thought you were in
America!'

She took no notice of his ungracious tone and manner; she simply
stopped him when he lifted his hat, and turned to leave her.

'Let me walk with you for a few minutes,' she quietly replied. 'I have
something to say to you.'

He showed her his cigar. 'I am smoking,' he said.

'I don't mind smoking.'

After that, there was nothing to be done (short of downright brutality)
but to yield. He did it with the worst possible grace. 'Well?' he
resumed. 'What do you want of me?'

'You shall hear directly, Mr. Westwick. Let me first tell you what my
position is. I am alone in the world. To the loss of my husband has
now been added another bereavement, the loss of my companion in
America, my brother--Baron Rivar.'

The reputation of the Baron, and the doubt which scandal had thrown on
his assumed relationship to the Countess, were well known to Francis.
'Shot in a gambling-saloon?' he asked brutally.

'The question is a perfectly natural one on your part,' she said, with
the impenetrably ironical manner which she could assume on certain
occasions. 'As a native of horse-racing England, you belong to a
nation of gamblers. My brother died no extraordinary death, Mr.
Westwick. He sank, with many other unfortunate people, under a fever
prevalent in a Western city which we happened to visit. The calamity
of his loss made the United States unendurable to me. I left by the
first steamer that sailed from New York--a French vessel which brought
me to Havre. I continued my lonely journey to the South of France.
And then I went on to Venice.'

'What does all this matter to me?' Francis thought to himself. She
paused, evidently expecting him to say something. 'So you have come to
Venice?' he said carelessly. 'Why?'

'Because I couldn't help it,' she answered.

Francis looked at her with cynical curiosity. 'That sounds odd,' he
remarked. 'Why couldn't you help it?'

'Women are accustomed to act on impulse,' she explained. 'Suppose we
say that an impulse has directed my journey? And yet, this is the last
place in the world that I wish to find myself in. Associations that I
detest are connected with it in my mind. If I had a will of my own, I
would never see it again. I hate Venice. As you see, however, I am
here. When did you meet with such an unreasonable woman before?
Never, I am sure!' She stopped, eyed him for a moment, and suddenly
altered her tone