d was gone again,
leaving a tray on the table.

"What is the matter?" asked Marcello in surprise, as he caught sight of
her face.

She sat down at a little distance, her eyes fixed on him.

"I am a very wicked woman," she said, in a dull voice.

"You?" Marcello laughed and filled the glasses.

"I am letting you kill yourself to amuse me," Regina said. "I am a very,
very wicked woman. But you shall not do it any more. We will go away at
once."

"I am perfectly well," Marcello answered, holding out a glass to her;
but she would not take it.

"I do not want wine to-night," she said. "It is good when one has a
light heart, but my heart is as heavy as a stone. What am I good for?
Kill me. It will be better. Then you will live."

"I should have died without you long ago. You saved my life."

"To take it again! To let you consume yourself, so that I may see the
world! What do I care for the world, if you are not well? Let us go away
quickly."

"Next week, if you like."

"No! To-morrow!"

"Without waiting to hear Melba?"

"Yes--to-morrow!"

"Or Sarah Bernhardt in Sardou's new play?"

"To-morrow! To-morrow morning, early! What is anything compared with
your getting well?"

"And your new summer costume that Doucet has not finished? How about
that?"

Marcello laughed gaily and emptied his glass. But Regina rose and knelt
down beside him, laying her hands on his.

"We must go to-morrow," she said. "You shall say where, for you know
what countries are near Paris, and where there are hills, and trees, and
waterfalls, and birds that sing, where the earth smells sweet when it
rains, and it is quiet when the sun is high. We will go there, but you
know where it is, and how far."

"I have no doubt Settimia knows," laughed Marcello. "She knows
everything."

But Regina's face was grave, and she shook her head slowly.

"What is the use of laughing?" she asked. "You cannot deceive me, you
know you cannot! I deceived myself and was blind, but my eyes are open
now, and I can only see the truth. Do you love me, Marcello?"

His eyes looked tired a moment ago, even when he laughed, but the light
came into them now. He breathed a little faster and bent forward to kiss
her. She could feel the rising pulse in his thin hands. But she leaned
back as she knelt, and pressed her lips together tightly.

"Not that," she said, after they had both been motionless ten seconds.
"I don't mean that! Love is not all kisses. There is