ping Irene to a seat in
the carriage.

He spoke somewhat through his nose and teeth, it was difficult to
say whether by nature or habit, but that gave to his speech a
character of contemptuousness and indolence.

"But of dissonances to-morrow n'est ce pas?" asked he.

"And of vexations!" concluded Irene with a smile, wherewith her
hand remained on the baron's palm a few seconds longer than was
necessary.

Soon after, Malvina Darvid was sitting at a small table covered
with a tea service, in a study which was like the lined and
gilded interior of a costly confectionery box. Massive silver
artistically finished, expensive porcelain, exquisite tid-bits,
enticing the eye by their ornamentation, and the taste by the
odor from them, tempered, however, by the strong fragrance of
hyacinths, syringa, and violets which were blooming at the window
and the walls, and on largo and small tables everywhere.

The dress worn at the theatre was replaced now by a wrapper,
composed of lace and material soft as down. Her posture in the
low and deep armchair, the very manner even in which she arranged
the folds of her robe seemed to exhale the luxury of rest; but
her mind was at work, and filled her eyes with an expression of
disquiet.

"'Catastrophe! Misfortune!' What could that be?" Marks of pain
had begun to wind around her mouth; her hands were firmly clasped
on her knees. "It may be that lost letter? A man must have a head
filled with exaltation, and a character as weak as Kranitski's to
write such a letter. It may be--it is even sure to be so, for
during a number of days she has felt in the air a catastrophe.
But if?--Well! Is that a misfortune? Oh, rather the opposite?"
The supposition that the dark, grievous truth of her life might
be discovered by him who would seek vengeance because of it
roused no fear in her; it caused her to hope for a thing
disagreeable and yet desired. Let that horrid knot in which her
life was involved be untied or torn apart sometime, in any way
whatever. Alone she would never have strength to untie or to cut
it, she is such an eternally weak, weak, weak creature! And still
anything would be better than the present condition.

Two glittering tears rolled slowly down her cheeks; above the
drooping eyelids a deep wrinkle cut a dark line across her
forehead. The diamond star flashing rainbow gleams from her hair,
and the flowers, which dotted the room thickly with their pale
colors, gave a backgroun