o, it need not be
said, being quite above the mean and cheap decoration made with fans or
unmeaning scraps of colour. The maids aforesaid, who obtained perilous
and breathless glimpses from time to time of all these wonders, were at
a loss to understand why so much trouble should be taken for a room that
nobody but its inmate ever saw. The finer intelligence of the reader
will no doubt set it down as something in the Contessa's favour that she
could not live, even when in the strictest privacy, without her pretty
things about her. To be sure it was not always so; in other regions,
where other habits prevailed, this shrine so artistically prepared was
open to worshippers; but the Contessa knew better than to make any such
innovation here. She intended, indeed, nothing that was not entirely
consistent with the strictest propriety. Her objects, no doubt, were her
own interest and her own pleasure, which are more or less the objects of
most people; but she intended no harm. She believed that she had a hold
over Sir Tom which she could work for her advantage, but she did not
mean to hurt Lucy. She thought that repose and a temporary absence from
the usual scenes of her existence would be of use to her, and she
thought also that a campaign in London under the warrant of the highest
respectability would further her grand object. It amused her besides,
perhaps, to flutter the susceptibilities of the innocent little
_ingenue_ whom Sir Tom had married; but she meant no harm. As for
seizing upon Sir Tom in the evenings, and occupying all his attention,
that was the most natural and simple of proceedings. She did this as
another woman played bezique. Some entertainment was a necessity, and
everybody had something. There were people who insisted upon whist--she
insisted only upon "some one to talk to." What could be more natural?
The Contessa's "some one" had to be a man and one who could pay with
sense and spirit the homage to which she was accustomed. It was her only
stipulation--and surely it must be an ungracious hostess indeed who
could object to that.

She had just finished her breakfast on one of those gray
mornings--seated before the fire in an easy-chair, which was covered
with a shawl of soft but bright Indian colouring. She had her back to
the light, but it was scarcely necessary even had there been any eyes to
see her save those of Marietta, who naturally was familiar with her
aspect at all times. Marietta made the Conte