know; I had to. And it was
quite easy. I could not let him go away alone and insulted, I should
have died for pity. And then we rode, and it rained and lightened, and
finally we couldn't go any farther. We went into a little inn: one of
Boris's friends was there, and an old Jew, and a Jewess sat there
without moving and looked at me as people sometimes look at us in
frightful dreams. Then we ate something and drank champagne, Boris's
friend sang and the two men played cards; but that was when it began,
everything grew different then, and quite sad, and I didn't understand
any more why I was there. I went into the adjoining room and lay down
on the bed. Everything smelled of dust and very bad perfume; there were
terrible red cushions, a child cried somewhere, and everything was
horribly ugly and sad. I never thought anything could be so ugly. Boris
came in. He was quite strange too. Here among the barberries he had
talked before about being happy and dying, but there, there it sounded
awful. And he was angry and went out and I pretended to sleep. Tell me,
Marion, could you love and be tragic, or be happy and die, when one of
the fat green caterpillars that we are so afraid of falls on top of you
and crawls over you and you can't pull it off you and it keeps on
crawling over you? See, that is the way everything was there,
everything. When all was still and Boris was sleeping, I jumped out of
the window and ran and ran."

"Don't you love him any more?" asked a timid voice from the
window-niche.

Billy was silent a moment, then she cried passionately, "Marion, don't
ask such questions. Yes, probably--of course I shall love him again,
here. But I will not talk about it any more, and they are not to
torment me. Go, tell them what you like, but for today I wish to be
left in peace. Auntie can come and sit beside my bed, but she mustn't
ask me anything, or mustn't talk about disagreeable things; she can
tell about her youth if she likes."

Billy turned her face to the wall, and Marion stole softly out of the
room.

Twilight was already falling when Countess Betty timidly entered her
brother's room. Count Hamilcar was sitting on his sofa, somewhat
shrunken, and was looking out of the window. "Well, Betty," he said
without looking up.

[Illustration: LITTLE CURIOSITY]
Jules Exter

The old lady stood still before him, supporting herself by her hands on
the back of a chair; the pale face of her brother alarmed her, it
lo