The Baroness had possibly assisted at some scenes of violence in the course of her husband’s checkered career.  At all events, she did not stop to see what happened after the way was clear, but ran to the door of the bedroom, and threw it wide open, for it was not locked.  The light that entered showed her where the window was; she opened it in an instant, and looked round.

Sabina was sitting up in bed, staring at her with a dazed expression, her hair in wild confusion round her pale face and falling over her bare neck.  Her clothes lay in a heap on the floor, beside the bed, Never was any woman more fairly caught in a situation impossible to explain.  Even in that first moment she felt it, when she looked at the Baroness’s face.

The latter did not speak, for she was utterly incapable of finding words.  The sound of a scuffle could be heard from the study in the distance; she quietly shut the door and turned the key.  Then she came and stood by the bed, facing the window.  Sabina had sunk back upon the pillows, but her eyes looked up bravely and steadily.  Of the two she was certainly the one less disturbed, even then, for she remembered that Malipieri had meant to go and tell the Baroness the whole truth, early in the morning.  He had done so, of course, and the Baroness had come to take her back, very angry of course, but that was all.  This was what Sabina told herself, but she guessed that matters would turn out much worse.

“Did he tell you how it happened that I could not get home?” she asked, almost calmly.

“No one has told me anything.  Your mother arrived in Rome last night.  She is at the Russian Embassy and wishes to see you at eleven o’clock.”

“My mother?” Sabina raised herself on one hand in surprise.

“Yes.  And I find you here.”

The Baroness folded her arms like a man, her brows contracted, and her face was almost livid.

“Have you the face to meet your mother, after this?” she asked sternly.

“Yes—­of course,” answered Sabina.  “But I must go home and dress.  My frock is ruined.”

“You are a brazen creature,” said the Baroness in disgust and anger.  “You do not seem to know what shame means.”

Sabina’s deep young eyes flashed; it was not safe to say such things to her.

“I have done nothing to be ashamed of,” she answered proudly, “and you shall not speak to me like that.  Do you understand?”

“Nothing to be ashamed of!” The Baroness stared at her in genuine amazement.  “Nothing to be ashamed of!” she repeated, and her voice shook with emotion.  “You leave my house by stealth, you let no one know where you are going, and the next morning I find you here, in your lover’s house, in your lover’s room, the door not even locked, your head upon your lover’s pillow!  Nothing to be ashamed of!  Merciful heavens!  And you have not only ruined yourself, but you have done an irreparable injury to honest people who took you in when you were starving!”