After dinner he led the Queen to an embroidered throne under a velvet

baldachino in a gorgeous chamber which had been the chapel of the Popes.

Then the ball began. What torrents of light! What a dazzling blaze of

diamonds! What lovely faces and pure white skins! What soft bosoms and

full round forms! What gleams of life and love in a hundred pairs of

beautiful eyes! But there was a lovelier face and form in the mind of

the Baron than any his eyes could see, and excusing himself to the King

on the ground of Rossi's expected arrival, he left the palace.

Fireflies in the dark garden of the Quirinal were emitting drops of

light as the Baron passed through the echoing courts, and the big square

in front, bright with electric light, was silent save for the footfall

of the sentries at the gate.

The Baron walked in the direction of the Piazza Navona. His

self-reproach was becoming poignant. He remembered the threats he had

made, and told himself he had never intended to carry them out. They

were only meant to impress the imagination of the person played upon, as

might happen in any ordinary affair of public life.

The Baron's memory went back to the last state ball before this one, and

he felt some pangs of shame. But the disaster of that night had not been

due to the cold calculation to which he had attributed it. The cause was

simpler and more human--love of a beautiful woman who was slipping away

from him, the girding sense of being bound body and soul to a wife that

was no wife, and the mad intoxication of a moment.

No matter! Roma should not lose by what had happened. He would make it

up to her. Considering her unconventional conduct, it was no little

thing he intended to do, but he would do it, and she would see that

others were capable of sacrifice.

The people were on the Pincio and the streets were quiet. When the Baron

reached the Piazza Navona there was hardly anybody about, and he had

difficulty in finding the house. No one saw him enter, and he met with

nobody on the stairs. So much the better. He was half ashamed.

After he had knocked twice a voice which he did not recognise told him

to come in. When he pushed the door open Roma, in hat and veil, stood

before him, with her back to a bureau. He thought she looked frightened

and ill.

V

"My dear Roma," said the Baron, "I bring you good news. Everything has

turned out well. Nothing could have been managed better, and I come to

congratulate you."




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