life by those who have accidentally caused them. Cecilia looked at
Guido, and he was gravely occupied in digging the little bits of truffle
out of some pate de foie gras on his plate, for he did not like
truffles. Not a muscle of his face moved.

"I suppose he is at home," the Princess answered after a few seconds, in
her most disagreeable and metallic tone.

As Monsieur Leroy had told Cecilia that he lived in the house, she
opened her eyes. Nobody spoke for several moments, and the Countess got
very red, and fanned herself. A stout old gentleman of an apoplectic
complexion and a merry turn of mind struggled a moment with an evident
desire to laugh, then grasped his glass desperately, tried to drink,
choked himself, and coughed and sputtered, just as if he had not been a
member of an imperial family, but just a common mortal.

"You are a good shot, Guido," said a man who was very much like him, but
was older and had iron-grey hair, "you must be sure to come to us for
the opening of the season."

"I should like to," Guido answered, "but it is always a state function
at your place."

"The Emperor is not coming this year," explained the first speaker.

"Why not?" asked the Princess Anatolie. "I thought he always did."

The man with the iron-grey hair proceeded to explain why the Emperor was
not coming, and the conversation began again, much to the relief of
every one. The Countess listened attentively, for she was not quite sure
which Emperor they meant.

"Please ask your mother not to talk about Monsieur Leroy," Guido said,
almost in a whisper.

Cecilia thought that the advice would scarcely be needed after what had
just happened, but she promised to convey it, and begged Guido to tell
her the reason for what he said when he should have a chance.

"I am sorry to say that I cannot," he answered, and at once began to
talk about an indifferent subject.

Cecilia answered him rather indolently, but not absently. She was at
least glad that he did not speak of their future plans, where any one
might hear what he said.

She was growing used to the idea that she had promised to marry him, and
that everybody expected the wedding to take place in a few weeks, though
it looked utterly impossible to her.

It was as if she had exchanged characters with him. He had become
hopeful, enthusiastic, in love with life, actively exerting himself in
every way. In a few days she had grown indolent and vacillating, and was
willi