“‘Will you start for Italy in the morning?’ he asked, pitilessly.

“‘For Italy in the morning?’ I groaned.  Meet Flora, travel with her, play the hypocrite, with smiles on my lips and hell in my heart,—­or thunderstrike her at once with the truth;—­what was I to do?  To some men the question would, perhaps, have presented few difficulties.  But for me, Sir, who am not quite devoid of conscience, whatever you may think,—­let me tell you, I’d rather hang by sharp hooks over a roasting fire than be again suspended as I was betwixt two such alternatives, and feel the torture of both!

“Having driven Joseph away, I locked myself into my room, and suffered the torments of the damned in as quiet a manner as possible, until morning.  Then Joseph returned, and looked at me with dismay.

“‘For Heaven’s sake!’ he said, ’you ought not to let this thing kill you,—­and it will, if you keep on.’

“‘So much the better,’ I said, ’if it kills nobody but me.  But don’t be alarmed.  Keep perfectly cool, and attend to the commission I am going to trust to you.  I can’t see Flora this morning; I must gain a little time.  Go to the station of the Lyons railway, where I have engaged to meet her party; say to her that I am detained, but that I will join her on the journey.  Give her no time to question you, and be sure that she does not stay behind.’

“‘I’ll manage it,—­trust me!’ said Joseph.  And off he started.  At the end of two hours, which seemed twenty, he burst into my room, crying,—­

“’Good news! she is gone!  I told her you had lost your passport, and would have to get another from our minister.’

“‘What!’ I exclaimed, ‘you lied to her?’

“‘Oh! there was no other way!’ said Joseph, ingenuously,—­’she is so sharp!  They’re to wait for you at Marseilles.  But I’ll manage that, too.  On their arrival at the Hotel d’Orient, they’ll find a telegraphic dispatch from me.  I wager a hat, they’ll leave in the first steamer for Naples.  Then you can follow at your leisure.’

“‘Thank you, Joseph.’

“I felt relieved.  Then came a reaction.  The next day I was attacked by fever.  I know not how long I struggled against it, but it mastered me.  The last things I remember were the visits of friends, the strange talk of a French physician, whispers and consultations, which I knew were about me, yet took no interest in,—­and at length Joseph rushing to my bedside, in a flutter of agitation, and gasping,—­

“‘Flora!’

“‘What of Flora?’ I demanded.

“‘I telegraphed, but she wouldn’t go; she has come back; she is here!’

“I was sinking back into the stupor from which I had been roused, when I heard a rustling which seemed afar off, yet was in my chamber; then a vision appeared to my sickened sight,—­a face which I dimly thought I had seen before,—­a flood of curls and a rain of kisses showering upon me,—­sobs and devouring caresses,—­Flora’s voice calling me passionate names; and I lying so passive, faintly struggling to remember, until my soul sank whirling in darkness, and I knew no more.