gossiping, the origin of
which was a mystery. One was the innkeeper of the 'Tempo Perso', whose
simple 'bettola' became, during those few days, a veritable place of
pilgrimage, and who sold a quantity of wine and numbers of fresh eggs.
The other was Dorsenne's publisher, of whom the Roman booksellers
ordered several hundred volumes.

"If I had had that duel in Paris," said the novelist to Mademoiselle
Steno, relating to her the unforeseen result, "I should perhaps have at
length known the intoxication of the thirtieth edition."

It was a few days after the departure of the Gorkas that he jested thus,
at a large dinner of twenty-four covers, given at Villa Steno in honor
of Peppino Ardea and Fanny Hafner. Reestablished in the Countess's favor
since his duel, he had again become a frequenter of her house, so much
the more assiduous as the increasing melancholy of Alba interested
him greatly. The enigma of the young girl's character redoubled that
interest at each visit in such a degree that, notwithstanding the heat,
already beginning, of the dangerous Roman summer, he constantly
deferred his return to Paris until the morrow. What had she guessed in
consequence of the encounter, the details of which she had asked of
him with an emotion scarcely hidden in her eyes of a blue as clear, as
transparent, as impenetrable at the same time, as the water of certain
Alpine lakes at the foot of the glaciers. He thought he was doing right
in corroborating the story of Boleslas Gorka's madness, which he knew
better than any one else to be false. But was it not the surest means of
exempting Madame Steno from connection with the affair? Why had he seen
Alba's beautiful eyes veiled with a sadness inexplicable, as if he had
just given her another blow? He did not know that since the day on
which the word insanity had been uttered before her relative to Maud's
husband, the Contessina was the victim of a reasoning as simple as
irrefutable.

"If Boleslas be mad, as they say," said Alba, "why does Maud, whom I
know to be so just and who loves me so dearly, attribute to my mother
the responsibility of this duel, to the point of breaking with me
thus, and of leaving without a line of explanation?... No.... There is
something else.".... The nature of the "something else" the young girl
comprehended, on recalling her mother's face during the perusal of
Maud's letter. During the ten days following that scene, she saw
constantly before her that f