own. I know
there is no one but the three of us in the house."

"Yes, three; but not counting my Jacobin. There is a Jacobin in the
house."

"A Jac . . .! Oh, George, is this the time to jest?" she began in
persuasive tones when a faint but peculiar noise stilled her lips as
though they had been suddenly frozen. She became quiet all over
instantly. I, on the contrary, made an involuntary movement before I,
too, became as still as death. We strained our ears; but that peculiar
metallic rattle had been so slight and the silence now was so perfect
that it was very difficult to believe one's senses. Dona Rita looked
inquisitively at me. I gave her a slight nod. We remained looking into
each other's eyes while we listened and listened till the silence became
unbearable. Dona Rita whispered composedly: "Did you hear?"

"I am asking myself . . . I almost think I didn't."

"Don't shuffle with me. It was a scraping noise."

"Something fell."

"Something! What thing? What are the things that fall by themselves?
Who is that man of whom you spoke? Is there a man?"

"No doubt about it whatever. I brought him here myself."

"What for?"

"Why shouldn't I have a Jacobin of my own? Haven't you one, too? But
mine is a different problem from that white-haired humbug of yours. He
is a genuine article. There must be plenty like him about. He has
scores to settle with half a dozen people, he says, and he clamours for
revolutions to give him a chance."

"But why did you bring him here?"

"I don't know--from sudden affection . . . "

All this passed in such low tones that we seemed to make out the words
more by watching each other's lips than through our sense of hearing.
Man is a strange animal. I didn't care what I said. All I wanted was to
keep her in her pose, excited and still, sitting up with her hair loose,
softly glowing, the dark brown fur making a wonderful contrast with the
white lace on her breast. All I was thinking of was that she was
adorable and too lovely for words! I cared for nothing but that
sublimely aesthetic impression. It summed up all life, all joy, all
poetry! It had a divine strain. I am certain that I was not in my right
mind. I suppose I was not quite sane. I am convinced that at that
moment of the four people in the house it was Dona Rita who upon the
whole was the most sane. She observed my face and I am sure she read
there something of my inward exaltation. She knew