he pendant, his eyes full of wonder and pity.

"Poor little girl!" he said softly under his breath.

He put the pendant carefully away in his waistcoat-pocket and stood
staring thoughtfully out of the window.

The door opened softly, and Sonia came quickly into the room, closed
the door, and leaned back against it. Her face was a dead white; her
skin had lost its lustre of fine porcelain, and she stared at him with
eyes dim with anguish.

In a hoarse, broken voice, she muttered: "Forgive me! Oh, forgive me!"

"A thief--you?" said the Duke, in a tone of pitying wonder.

Sonia groaned.

"You mustn't stop here," said the Duke in an uneasy tone, and he looked
uneasily at the door.

"Ah, you don't want to speak to me any more," said Sonia, in a
heartrending tone, wringing her hands.

"Guerchard is suspicious of everything. It is dangerous for us to be
talking here. I assure you that it's dangerous," said the Duke.

"What an opinion must you have of me! It's dreadful--cruel!" wailed
Sonia.

"For goodness' sake don't speak so loud," said the Duke, with even
greater uneasiness. "You MUST think of Guerchard."

"What do I care?" cried Sonia. "I've lost the liking of the only
creature whose liking I wanted. What does anything else matter? What
DOES it matter?"

"We'll talk somewhere else presently. That'll be far safer," said the
Duke.

"No, no, we must talk now!" cried Sonia. "You must know.... I must tell
... Oh, dear! ... Oh, dear! ... I don't know how to tell you.... And
then it is so unfair.... she ... Germaine ... she has everything," she
panted. "Yesterday, before me, you gave her that pendant, ... she
smiled ... she was proud of it.... I saw her pleasure.... Then I took
it--I took it--I took it! And if I could, I'd take her fortune, too....
I hate her! Oh, how I hate her!"

"What!" said the Duke.

"Yes, I do ... I hate her!" said Sonia; and her eyes, no longer gentle,
glowed with the sombre resentment, the dull rage of the weak who turn
on Fortune. Her gentle voice was harsh with rebellious wrath.

"You hate her?" said the Duke quickly.

"I should never have told you that.... But now I dare.... I dare speak
out.... It's you! ... It's you--" The avowal died on her lips. A
burning flush crimsoned her cheeks and faded as quickly as it came: "I
hate her!" she muttered.

"Sonia--" said the Duke gently.

"Oh! I know that it's no excuse.... I know that you're thinking 'This
is a very pretty story, but i