ear. Come to me as before, but pass the night now with me, for
it would be difficult for you to go home at this hour."

He touched the button of the electric bell, and when the door
opened at once, he said to his companion on the threshold:

"Bianca sings that aria from the 'Cavalier' gloriously, does she
not? La, la, la----"

He tried to give the music, but his voice failed. So he
disappeared behind the closing door, humming the aria of the
splendid singer which he had just heard at supper.

Below, two clocks, one after the other, sounded out six. Through
the great windows light began to enter from the snow-covered
streets. That seemed the gradual and slow drawing aside of a dark
curtain, from behind which came out with increasing distinctness,
furniture, pictures, mirrors, candlesticks, vases, rugs, plushes,
velvets, polish, gilt, mosaics, ivory, porcelain. Until all
standing forth in the full light of that winter morning began
like a pearl shell to interchange various colors and lustres, and
to drop from the walls and ceilings reflections of gold on the
shining floor.

CHAPTER III

Kranitski ascended a carpeted stairway, which was adorned with
lamps and statues. His fur coat with a costly collar was over
worn somewhat; his hat was shining; his step free, and there was
a cheerful smile under his mustaches, which were turned up at the
ends carefully. The stairway was almost a street. People were
passing up and down on it, and whenever you met them and caught
their eyes you noted freedom, self-confidence, elegance; you saw
the eleventh commandment of God, which Moses, only through some
inconceivable forgetfulness, neglected to add to the Decalogue.

Entering the antechamber he threw the servant his fur, from which
issued the odor of excellent perfumes. From the pocket of his
coat peeped the edge of a handkerchief. He arranged before a
mirror his hair, thick yet above his forehead, but showing from
behind a small, circular, bald spot. Hat in hand, and with a
springy, self-confident tread, he entered the drawing-room. Only
two red spots above his brow interrupted the whiteness of his
forehead, which was slightly wrinkled; his eyes, usually gleaming
or affable, were mist-covered.

In a door, opposite that by which Kranitski entered, stood Irene,
under a crimson drapery of curtains, with an open book in her
hand. Kranitski, with that light-swaying of the body, with which
elegants are accustomed to approach l