“I think we had better go and have a look at our house,” answered Pilar, trying hard to assume a perfectly unconcerned tone.

“Of course,” said Wilhelm; “and while you go home, I will take a look at the streets of Paris.”

“What—­you are not coming with me?”

“I think it better you should go by yourself the first time.  You have no doubt got a good deal to set in order, and I should only be in the way.”

“Wilhelm,” she said very gravely, “you are determined to hurt me.  Have I deserved that of you?”

“But, dearest Pilar—­”

“I want proofs that I am your dearest Pilar.  I have given myself to you—­body, soul and spirit.  If you want my life as well, then say so.  I should be overjoyed to give it you.  And you?  Since yesterday your every word and look tells me plainly that you regard me as a stranger, and want to have nothing more to do with me.  Oh, yes, you do it all in a very delicate and considerate manner, that is your way, but there is no need to speak more plainly to me”

“Do not excite yourself Pilar, I assure you that you are entirely wrong.”

She shook her head.

“I am not a child.  Let us talk it over seriously.  I told you yesterday I would not let you go.  Of course you understand what I mean by that.  I will not keep you if you want to be free.  But then be honest, and tell me frankly that you are tired of me, and want to be rid of me.  I shall at least know what I have to do.  Do not be afraid, I shall not make a scene, I shall not cause you any annoyance, not even reproach you.  I shall receive my sentence of death in silence, and kiss the hand that inflicts it on me.”

She buried her face in her hands, and tears trickled down between her fingers.

“And all this,” said Wilhelm, “because I thought it better not to accompany you to-day.  The whole affair is not worth one of your tears.”

“Then you will come with me?” she cried excitedly, lifting her face to his.

“I suppose I shall have to, since you talk about death sentences and terrible things of the kind.”

She embraced him frantically, rang the bell, threw the things that lay about anyhow into the box, and when the waiter came, ordered a carriage.  As they went downstairs she gave a hurried order in the office, and with a beaming and triumphant face, passed through the hall on Wilhelm’s arm to the carriage.

Their destination was a small house on the Boulevard Pereire, of two stories, three windows wide, and a balcony in front of the first-floor windows.  At Wilhelm’a ring the door was opened by Anne, who made him a careless courtesy, but greeted her mistress respectfully.  Wilhelm was going to let Pilar precede him, but she said:  “No, no; you go first.  It is a better omen.”

Assembled in the hall they found Auguste, an old woman with a red nose, and a man not in livery, who expressed their satisfaction at their mistress’ return, and complimented her on her improved appearance, but were in reality chiefly engaged in taking stock of Wilhelm while they did so.  Pilar gave the man some direction in Spanish, and then drew Wilhelm into the salon, which opened into the hall.