deliberately chose the lower path.

"Tina," he said, "I cannot spare you; you must not go. You are mine--I
love you; you belong to me;" and he stepped forward, as if to take her
in his arms.

The girl sprang to her feet. She drew herself up to her full height, and
her splendid eyes, expanded to their full orbit, flashed upon the Prince
with a look of astonishment and reproach. With the entire power of her
trained voice, which, magnificent as it was, could still but imperfectly
render the reality of remonstrance and pathetic regret, she uttered but
one word--"Prince!"

The cadence of her voice, trembling in the passionate intensity of
musical tone, the whole power of her woman's nature, exerted to its full
in expostulation and reproach--the magnetic force of her intense
consciousness--struck upon the conscience and cultured taste of the
Prince with crushing effect. He lost the perfectly serene tone of pose
and demeanour which distinguished him and became him so well. He aged
perceptibly, incredible as it may seem, ten years. The fatal step which
he had taken was revealed to him in a moment as in a flash of light,
with all the stain and taint with which it had tarnished the fair dream
of finished art which he had conceived it possible to perfect. He was
utterly demoralised and crushed. Mark's death was nothing to this. That
had been a terrible mistake, but his part in it had been indirect, and
his motive, at least so he flattered himself, comparatively high; but
this action, so entirely his own, revealed to him, in its vulgar
commonplaceness, by the glorious perfection of the girl's action and
tone, withered him with a sense of irreparable failure and disgrace. He
made one or two ineffectual attempts to rally; it was impossible--there
was nothing for him but to leave the room.

Faustina was unconscious of his going. She found herself left alone. The
situation was still not without its difficulties. She was alone,
unattended by servants, she knew not where to go, how to leave the
_Hotel_. She lay for some time in a sort of swoon; then she rose and
wandered from the room.

The only means of exit with which she was acquainted was through the
curtains into the _salon_. She parted them and went out, hardly knowing
what she did.

The vast _salon_ was but dimly lighted, and no servants were to be seen;
the whole house seemed silent and deserted--more especially these state
apartments. She passed slowly and with faltering