could nevermore be smoothed away.

"Is it really too late for happiness?" she said aloud, in a hollow
voice.

She shuddered, for the night wind swept coldly through the room. Slowly
she took the rose from her hair and let it fall to the ground, so that
the leaves were strewed over the carpet; then she unwound the veil from
her head, took out the comb and shook her hair down over her shoulders.
As she did so the blood returned to her cheeks, her eyes sparkled, and
she began to be pleased with herself once more. "_Il y a pourtant
quelques beaux restes!_" she said to herself. Then, with sunken head,
she strode across the _salon_, talking half aloud to herself, and
stepped up to the open piano. She struck the keys with her open hand so
that they gave forth a loud, harsh discord. She laughed scornfully at
this. "He will do penance, will he? He shall!--he shall!--he shall!"
and, once more folding her arms across her breast, she stepped into the
cabinet and stood still before the young Greek's cartoon. She knew the
picture by heart. And yet she stood before it as lost in contemplation
as though she saw it for the first time.

Suddenly she felt a hot breath upon her neck. She shuddered slightly
and looked round.

Stephanopulos stood behind her.

"Are you crazy?" whispered Nelida. "What are you doing here? Leave me
this moment! My maid is coming!"

"She is asleep," whispered the youth. "I told her you would not need
her. Do you reproach me, countess?--me, who only live in your
smiles--to whom a glance of your eyes is heaven or hell!"

"Hush!" she said, leaving him her hand which he had seized. "You are
talking nonsense, my friend. But you have a good voice, and, besides,
one cannot be angry with you. _Vous etes un enfant!_"

CHAPTER X.

On the morning following the _soiree_, the lieutenant sat in the second
story of the same hotel, in the little _salon_ which lay between
Irene's bedroom and her uncle's. Although he was continually
complaining about his wretched vassalage to friendship, he had,
nevertheless, presented himself again in good season in order to
receive the watchword for the day. Inasmuch as he had not the faintest
regular occupation, this pretext for passing away the hours was, in
reality, heartily welcome to him. More than this, Irene's strangely
resigned and yet self-reliant character, her repellent manner and
almost bluntness, joined as they were with all the cha