ned for the heads of his accusations, and, as
nothing stopped him, she turned to go. Pericles laughed when she
had left the room. Irma di Karski was announced the next minute, and
Countess d'Isorella re-appeared beside her. Irma had a similar greeting.
"I am lost," she exclaimed. "Yes, you are lost," said Pericles; "a word
from me, and the back of the public is humped at you--ha! contessa,
you touched Mdlle. Irma's hand? She is to be on her guard, and never to
think she is lost till down she goes? You are a more experienced woman!
I tell you I will have no nonsense. I am Countess Alessandra Ammiani's
friend. You two, you women, are her enemies. I will ruin you both. You
would prevent her singing in public places--you, Countess d'Isorella,
because you do not forgive her marriage to Count Ammiani; you, Irma,
to spite her for her voice. You would hiss her out of hearing, you two
miserable creatures. Not another soldo for you! Not one! and to-morrow,
countess, I will see my lawyer. Irma, begone, and shriek to your
wardrobe! Countess d'Isorella, I have the extreme honour."

Wilfrid marvelled to hear this titled and lovely woman speaking almost
in tones of humility in reply to such outrageous insolence. She craved
a private interview. Irma was temporarily expelled, and then Violetta
stooped to ask what the Greek's reason for his behaviour could be. She
admitted that it was in his power to ruin her, as far as money went.
"Perhaps a little farther," said Pericles; "say two steps. If one is
on a precipice, two steps count for something." But, what had she done?
Pericles refused to declare it. This set her guessing with a charming
naivete. Pericles called Irma back to assist her in the task, and
quitted them that they might consult together and hit upon the right
thing. His object was to send his valet for Luigi Saracco. He had
seen that no truth could be extracted from these women, save forcibly.
Unaware that he had gone out, Wilfrid listened long enough to hear
Irma say, between sobs: "Oh! I shall throw myself upon his mercy. Oh,
Countess d'Isorella, why did you lead me to think of vengeance! I am
lost! He knows everything. Oh, what is it to me whether she lives with
her husband! Let them go on plotting. I am not the Government. I am sure
I don't much dislike her. Yes, I hate her, but why should I hurt myself?
She will wear those jewels on her forehead; she will wear that necklace
with the big amethysts, and pretend she's humble