rising note of courage, almost of fervour.

Though surrounded by an attentive audience, Andrea felt that she was
playing for him alone. From time to time, his eyes wandering from the
fingers of the pianist to the long gloves hanging from the music stand,
which still retained the form of those hands, still preserved an
inexpressible charm in the small opening at the wrist where, but a short
time ago, a tiny morsel of her soft flesh had been visible.

Maria rose amidst a round of applause. She left the piano, but she did
not take away her gloves. Andrea was tempted to steal them.--Had she not
perhaps left them for him?--But he only wanted one. As a connoisseur in
amatory matters has said, a pair of gloves is a totally different thing
from a single one.

Led back to the piano by the insistence of the Countess Starnina, Maria
removed her gloves from the desk and placed them in a corner of the
keyboard, in the shadow. She then played Rameau's Gavotte--_the Gavotte
of the Yellow Ladies_--the never-to-be-forgotten dance of Indifference
and Love.

Andrea regarded her fixedly with a little trepidation. When she rose,
she took up one of her gloves. The other she left in the shadowy corner
of the piano--for him.

Three days afterwards, when astonished Rome had awakened to find itself
under a covering of snow, Andrea received a note to the following
effect--

'_Tuesday, 2 p. m._--To-night, between eleven and twelve o'clock, you
will wait for me in a carriage in front of the Palazzo Barberini,
outside the gates. If by midnight I am not there, you can go away
again.--_A stranger_.'

The tone of the note was mysterious and romantic. Was it in remembrance
of the 25th of March two years ago? Lady Heathfield seemed particularly
fond of the use of carriages in her love affairs. Had she the intention
of taking up the adventure at the point where it broke off? And why--_A
stranger_? Andrea could not repress a smile. He had just come back from
a visit to Maria--a very pleasing visit--and his heart inclined, for the
moment, more to the Siennese than to the other. His ear still retained
the sound of her sweet and gentle words as they stood together at the
window and watched the snow falling soft as peach or apple blossom on
the trees of the Villa Aldobrandini, already touched with the
presentiment of the coming Spring. However, before going out to dinner,
he gave very particular orders to Stephen.

Eleven o'clock found him in front