ate to see Domini off, and directly she had
left him she noticed that Androvsky was under the arcade and had been
a witness of their parting. As she went past him and into the hotel she
saw that he looked greatly disturbed and excited. His face was lit up by
the now fiery glare of the sun, and when, in passing, she nodded to
him, and he took off his hat, he cast at her a glance that was like an
accusation. As soon as she gained the verandah she heard his heavy step
upon the stair. For a moment she hesitated. Should she go into her room
and so avoid him, or remain and let him speak to her? She knew that he
was following her with that purpose. Her mind was almost instantly made
up. She crossed the verandah and sat down in the low chair that was
always placed outside her French window. Androvsky followed her and
stood beside her. He did not say anything for a moment, nor did she.
Then he spoke with a sort of passionate attempt to sound careless and
indifferent.

"Monsieur Anteoni has gone, I suppose, Madame?"

"Yes, he has gone. I reached the garden safely, you see."

"Batouch came later. He was much ashamed when he found you had gone. I
believe he is afraid, and is hiding himself till your anger shall have
passed away."

She laughed.

"Batouch could not easily make me angry. I am not like you, Monsieur
Androvsky."

Her sudden challenge startled him, as she had meant it should. He moved
quickly, as at an unexpected touch.

"I, Madame?"

"Yes; I think you are very often angry. I think you are angry now."

His face was flooded with red.

"Why should I be angry?" he stammered, like a man completely taken
aback.

"How can I tell? But, as I came in just now, you looked at me as if you
wanted to punish me."

"I--I am afraid--it seems that my face says a great deal that--that--"

"Your lips would not choose to say. Well, it does. Why are you angry
with me?" She gazed at him mercilessly, studying the trouble of his
face. The combative part of her nature had been roused by the glance
he had cast at her. What right had he, had any man, to look at her like
that?

Her blunt directness lashed him back into the firmness he had lost.
She felt in a moment that there was a fighting capacity in him equal,
perhaps superior, to her own.

"When I saw you come from the priest's house, Madame, I felt as if you
had been there speaking about me--about my conduct of yesterday."

"Indeed! Why should I do that?"

"I thought as