ing "that honest
Kranitski," and a wave of blood rushed to his forehead.
Everything that he had forgotten a moment earlier returned to his
mind; the prince's voice roared in his ears: "That honest
Kranitski." He repeated a number of times to himself, in a
hissing whisper, "honest! honest!" And then he said:

"Wretchedness!"

That Baron Emil, the young buck capable of gulping down many a
Pactolus! And he was to possess the hand of his daughter, with a
considerable part of that fortune won by iron labor. Is Irene in
love with him? But the baron is a vibrio and a monkey all in one.
There is need to think over this family matter, lest a misfortune
might happen. He cast a glance at the door behind which was
darkness, thick, silent, immovable. It resembled a window opened
into a great and impenetrable secret.

"I must have the house lighted up," thought he. At this moment he
heard the dull rumble of a carriage in the gateway as it entered.
He pressed the button of the electric bell.

"Is that the lady who has come?"

"Yes, serene lord."

"Tell the coachman to wait. He will take me to the club."

When the servant opened the door the rustle of silk came in like
the sound of wind. Two long silken robes passed over the floor of
the anteroom and farther on in the darkness of the chambers,
which was dispelled by the light of the lamp, borne by the
servant advancing in front of them.

The glittering gnomes called forth by that light sprang along the
gildings, polished walls, and furniture; ran out of the darkness,
ran into it again; were lighted up and quenched on the inclined
heads, drooping lids, and silent lips of the two women in rich
array and gloomy.

CHAPTER II

Malvina Darvid was one of those women to whom old age is very
tardy in coming, and whose beauty, modified in each season of
life, never leaves them. For this last she was indebted less to
the features of her face than to the immense charm of her
movements, her smile, her expression, her speech. She retained
yet the same pale, golden hair which she had years earlier, which
she arranged high above her low forehead, calling to mind the
statues of Grecian women. In contrast with that hair, and her
slightly faded but delicate complexion, shone, from under dark
brows, large eyes, also dark, with a very mild, warm expression,
now bright, now tempered by a deep inevitable cloud of
pensiveness. In a robe covered with lace, in the glitter of a
star of diamo