he answered. "She never pretends that her
right is legal, for it is not. On the contrary, she says it is a
question of honour, that I have lost her money for her in speculations,
and that I am bound to restore it to her. It is true that I only did
with it exactly what she wished, and what she insisted that I should do,
against my own judgment. She knows that."

"But then, I do not see----"

"She also knows that I cannot prove it," interrupted Guido, "and as she
is perfectly unscrupulous, she will use everything against me to make
out that I have deliberately cheated her out of the money."

"But it cannot make so much difference to her, after all," objected
Lamberti. "She must have an immense fortune somewhere."

"She is a miser, in spite of that sudden attack of the gaming fever.
Money is the only passion of her life."

"Possibly, though I doubt it. There is Monsieur Leroy, you know."

Lamberti spoke the name with contempt, but Guido said nothing, for,
after all, the high and mighty lady about whom they were talking was his
father's sister, and he preferred not to talk scandal about her, even
with his intimate friend.

"If matters grow worse," said Lamberti, "there are at least the
worthless securities in her name, to prove that you acted for her."

"You are mistaken. That is the worst of it. Everything was done in my
name, for she would not let her own appear. She used to give me the
money in cash, telling me exactly what to do with it, and I brought her
the broker's accounts."

"I daresay she made you sign receipts for the sums she gave you,"
laughed Lamberti.

"Yes, she did."

Lamberti sat up suddenly and stared at his friend. Such folly was hardly
to be believed.

"She is capable of saying that she lent you the money on your promise!"
he cried.

"That is exactly what she threatens to do," answered Guido d'Este,
dejectedly. "As I cannot possibly pay it, she can force me to do one of
two things."

"What things?"

"Either to disappear from honourable society and begin life somewhere
else, or else to make an end of myself. And she will do it. I have felt
for more than a year that she means to ruin me."

Lamberti set his teeth, and stared at the stone-pine. If Guido had not
been just the man he was, sensitive to morbidness where his honour was
concerned, the situation might have seemed less desperate. If his aunt,
her Serene Highness the Princess Anatolie, had not been a monster of
avarice, selfish