di bello. Ahime, che amico, che
ragazzo duro, aspero--"

"Trova?" said Ciccio, with a curl of the lip. He looked, as he
dropped his long, beautiful lashes, as if he might weep for all
that, if he were not bound to be misbehaving just now.

So Madame moaned in four languages as she posed pallid in her
arm-chair. Usually she spoke in French only, with her young men. But
this was an extra occasion.

"La pauvre Kishwegin!" murmured Madame. "Elle va finir au monde.
Elle passe--la pauvre Kishwegin."

Kishwegin was Madame's Red Indian name, the name under which she
danced her Squaw's fire-dance.

Now that she knew she was ill, Madame seemed to become more ill. Her
breath came in little pants. She had a pain in her side. A feverish
flush seemed to mount her cheek. The young men were all extremely
uncomfortable. Louis did not conceal his tears. Only Ciccio kept the
thin smile on his lips, and added to Madame's annoyance and pain.

Alvina came down to take her to bed. The young men all rose, and
kissed Madame's hand as she went out: her poor jewelled hand, that
was faintly perfumed with eau de Cologne. She spoke an appropriate
good-night, to each of them.

"Good-night, my faithful Max, I trust myself to you. Good-night,
Louis, the tender heart. Good-night valiant Geoffrey. Ah Ciccio, do
not add to the weight of my heart. Be good _braves_, all, be
brothers in one accord. One little prayer for poor Kishwegin.
Good-night!"

After which valediction she slowly climbed the stairs, putting her
hand on her knee at each step, with the effort.

"No--no," she said to Max, who would have followed to her
assistance. "Do not come up. No--no!"

Her bedroom was tidy and proper.

"Tonight," she moaned, "I shan't be able to see that the boys'
rooms are well in order. They are not to be trusted, no. They need
an overseeing eye: especially Ciccio; especially Ciccio!"

She sank down by the fire and began to undo her dress.

"You must let me help you," said Alvina. "You know I have been a
nurse."

"Ah, you are too kind, too kind, dear young lady. I am a lonely old
woman. I am not used to attentions. Best leave me."

"Let me help you," said Alvina.

"Alas, ahime! Who would have thought Kishwegin would need help. I
danced last night with the boys in the theatre in Leek: and tonight
I am put to bed in--what is the name of this place, dear?--It seems
I don't remember it."

"Woodhouse," said Alvina.

"Woodhouse! Woodhouse! Is the