by one and their likeness to one another more and more clearly.  Even in her dream, it flashed upon her that it might all be true except that one part of it which said that Bosio had loved Matilde and not herself.  That was not true.  He had loved her, Veronica; they had known it, and had taken advantage of it.  She did not blame them for that.  She had been so fond of him,—­she knew that she should soon have loved him,—­and the dream swung back upon itself, and she was again standing beside the fire in the yellow room, with him so near to her.  And after she awoke, she shed tears.

On that morning, after eleven o’clock, Matilde came to Veronica’s room, bringing a piece of needlework with her, and she sat down to stay a while.  They talked idly about dull subjects, and from time to time Matilde looked up and smiled sadly.  She sat so that she could not see Bosio’s photograph on the mantelpiece.  After she had been there half an hour, she started, suddenly remembering something.

“I have done such a stupid thing!” she exclaimed, with an expression of annoyance.  “I believe I am losing my memory!”

“What is it?” asked Veronica, naturally.

“I sent my maid out, just before I came to you, with a number of errands to do, and I forgot two things that I wanted very much.  There was some medicine which I was to take before luncheon, and some jet beads that I needed.  I do not care so much about the beads, but I need the medicine.  I feel so horribly tired and weak, all the time.”

“Send one of the men,” suggested Veronica.

“A man could not buy jet things,” objected Matilde.  “You could not let Elettra go out for me, could you?  It is a fine morning, for a wonder, and she need not be gone more than half an hour.”

“Certainly,” answered Veronica, promptly.  “She has nothing to do, and the walk will be good for her.”

She rose and rang for her maid.

“I will go and get the recipe,” said Matilde, rising, too.  “It is an old one, given me by our poor doctor who died last year, and I kept it because it did me so much good.  They will make it up in ten minutes.  She can go and buy the jet, and stop for it on the way back.  Will you tell her that she may go?”

Elettra had entered the room, and Veronica explained to her what she was to do.

“Put on your hat, Elettra,” said Matilde, “and then please come to my room, and I will give you the recipe.  I must find it among my things.  I will be back presently, dear,” she said to Veronica.

She went out, followed by the maid, who did as she was bidden and then went to Matilde’s room.  The countess explained exactly what sort of jet she wanted, and then gave her the recipe.

“Tell the chemist that this is only for two doses,” she said, “but that I wish him to make up twenty doses, because I am going to take it regularly.  Say that it is for me, and go to Casadio for it, where we get everything.  Have it put down on the bill.  Do you understand?  Here are twenty francs for the jet, but you will not need so much.  You understand, do you?”