"I 'd give a hundred thousand," I said, "to have her annihilated. Perhaps, after all, I shall want you to dig another hole."
"At your service!" he answered, with a flourish; and we separated.
A couple of days later I dined, as I often did, with my host and hostess, and met the Count face to face for the first time since his prostration in the Casino. He bore the traces of it, and sat plunged in sombre distraction. I fancied that the path of the antique faith was not strewn with flowers, and that the Juno was becoming daily a harder mistress to serve. Dinner was scarcely over before he rose from table and took up his hat. As he did so, passing near his wife, he faltered a moment, stopped and gave her—for the first time, I imagine—that vaguely imploring look which I had often caught. She moved her lips in inarticulate sympathy and put out her hands. He drew her towards him, kissed her with a kind of angry ardor, and strode away. The occasion was propitious, and further delay unnecessary.
"What I have to tell you is very strange," I said to the Countess, "very fantastic, very incredible. But perhaps you 'll not find it so bad as you feared. There is a woman in the case! Your enemy is the Juno. The Count—how shall I say it?—the Count
