She had taken off her hat which pressed heavily upon her throbbing brow, and as the sun shone full on the coil of glittering hair, with here and there a golden tress rippling low on her snowy neck and ear, her ripe loveliness seized the man’s senses with irresistible witchery; and the thought of her reappearance as a public idol, of her exhibition of her wonderful beauty to the critical gaze of all Naples, suddenly filled him with jealous horror and genuine pain.  As if utterly weary and indifferent, she leaned back, nestling her head against the cushions of the carriage; and looking eagerly, almost hungrily at her, General Laurance silently registered a vow, that the world should soon know her no more as the Queen of Tragedy, that ere long the only kingdom over which she reigned should be restricted to the confines of his own heart and life.

Pale as marble she coolly met the undisguised ardent admiration in his gaze, and bending forward he asked pleadingly: 

“Not to-morrow?  Then next day, Mrs. Orme?”

“Perhaps so, if I chance to be at home; which is by no means certain.  Naples is a sorceress and draws me hither and thither at will.  General Laurance, I wish you a pleasant ride to Baiae, and must bid you good-bye.”

She inclined her head, smiled proudly, and closed her eyes; and, watching her as the carriage rolled away, he wondered if mere fatigue had brought that ghastly pallor to the face he knew he was beginning to love so madly.

“Shall we not return to Naples?  You look weary, and unhappy,” said Mr. Waul, who did not like the expression of the hopeless, fixed blanched lips.

“No, no!  We go to Avernus.  That is the mouth of Hell, you know, and to Hecate and all the infernal gods I dedicate this fateful day, and those that will follow.  It is only the storm-beaten worthless wreck of a life; let it drift—­on—­on, down!  Had I ten times more to lose, I would not shrink back now; I would offer all—­all as an oblation to Nemesis.”

“The gods have made us mighty certainly—­That we can bear such things, and yet not die.”

CHAPTER XIX.

“Regina, will you touch the bell for Hattie, that she may come and carry away all this breakfast, which I have not touched, and the bare sight of which surfeits me?  From the amount supplied, one might imagine me a modern Polyphemus, or, abjuring the classics, a second old Mrs. Philipone, who positively drank four cups of tea at the last ‘Kettledrum.’  How fervently she should pray for continued peace with China, and low tariff on Pekoe?  I scarcely know which is the greater hardship, to abstain from food when very hungry, or to impose upon one’s digestive apparatus when it piteously protests, asking for ‘rest, only rest.’”

It was twelve o’clock on a bright, cold day in December, but Olga was still in bed; and as she raised herself, crushing the pillows under her shoulder for support, Regina, sewing beside her, thought she had never seen her look so handsome.