ve had on various occasions
to face time enemy. But it was not then I needed my resolution; it was
when I left Florence in a post-chaise."

Stanmer turned about the room two or three times, and then he said: "I
don't understand! I don't understand why she should have told you that
Camerino had killed her husband. It could only damage her."

"She was afraid it would damage her more that I should think he was her
lover. She wished to say the thing that would most effectually persuade
me that he was not her lover--that he could never be. And then she
wished to get the credit of being very frank."

"Good heavens, how you must have analysed her!" cried my companion,
staring.

"There is nothing so analytic as disillusionment. But there it is. She
married Camerino."

"Yes, I don't lime that," said Stanmer. He was silent a while, and then
he added--"Perhaps she wouldn't have done so if you had remained."

He has a little innocent way! "Very likely she would have dispensed with
the ceremony," I answered, drily.

"Upon my word," he said, "you _have_ analysed her!"

"You ought to be grateful to me. I have done for you what you seem
unable to do for yourself."

"I don't see any Camerino in my case," he said.

"Perhaps among those gentlemen I can find one for you."

"Thank you," he cried; "I'll take care of that myself!" And he went
away--satisfied, I hope.

10th.--He's an obstinate little wretch; it irritates me to see him
sticking to it. Perhaps he is looking for his Camerino. I shall leave
him, at any rate, to his fate; it is growing insupportably hot.

11th.--I went this evening to bid farewell to the Scarabelli. There was
no one there; she was alone in her great dusky drawing-room, which was
lighted only by a couple of candles, with the immense windows open over
the garden. She was dressed in white; she was deucedly pretty. She
asked me, of course, why I had been so long without coming.

"I think you say that only for form," I answered. "I imagine you know."

"_Che_! what have I done?"

"Nothing at all. You are too wise for that."

She looked at me a while. "I think you are a little crazy."

"Ah no, I am only too sane. I have too much reason rather than too
little."

"You have, at any rate, what we call a fixed idea."

"There is no harm in that so long as it's a good one."

"But yours is abominable!" she exclaimed, with a laugh.

"Of course you can't like me or my ideas. All thing