o pale, the man, who had been
in the Countess's service for years, could not help saying to her, with
the familiarity of an Italian servant:

"You have taken cold, Mademoiselle, and this place is so dangerous."

"Indeed," she replied, "I have had a chill. It will be nothing. Let us
return quickly. Above all, do not say that I was in the boat. You will
cause me to be scolded."

CHAPTER XII. EPILOGUE

"And it was directly after that conversation that the poor child left
for the lake, where she caught the pernicious fever?" asked Montfanon.

"Directly," replied Dorsenne, "and what troubles me the most is that I
can not doubt but that she went there purposely. I was so troubled by
our conversation that I had not the strength to leave Rome the same
evening, as I told her I should. After much hesitation--you understand
why, now that I have told you all--I returned to the Villa Steno at six
o'clock. To speak to her, but of what? Did I know? It was madness. For
her avowal only allowed of two replies, either that which I made her or
an offer of marriage. Ah, I did not reason so much. I was afraid.... Of
what?... I do not know. I reached the villa, where I found the Countess,
gay and radiant, as was her custom, and tete-a-tete with her American.
'Only think, there is my child,' said she to me, 'who has refused to go
to the English embassy, where she would enjoy herself, and who has gone
out for a drive alone.... Will you await her?'"

"At length she began to grow uneasy, and I, seeing that no one returned,
took my leave, my heart oppressed by presentiments.... Alba's carriage
stopped at the door just as I was going out. She was pale, of a greenish
pallor, which caused me to say on approaching her: 'Whence have you
come?' as if I had the right. Her lips, already discolored, trembled as
they replied. When I learned where she had spent that hour of sunset,
and near what lake, the most deadly in the neighborhood, I said to her:
'What imprudence!' I shall all my life see the glance she gave me at the
moment, as she replied: 'Say, rather, how wise, and pray that I may have
taken the fever and that I die of it.' You know the rest, and how her
wish has been realized. She indeed contracted the fever, and so severely
that she died in less than six days. I have no doubt, since her last
words, that it was a suicide."

"And the mother," asked Montfanon, "did she not comprehend finally?"

"Absolutely nothing," replied Dorsenne. "