The opposition that encircled me inflamed my passion for her; the few days' separation had served to convince me that I could not live without her.
I found her alone; her face was a little flushed and her eyes bright. The moment the door was shut she turned on me almost fiercely.
"Why did you send to say you were coming?"
"I didn't send; I told Wetter. Besides, I always send before I go anywhere."
"Not always before you come to me," she retorted. "You're not to hide behind your throne, Cæsar. I was going out if you hadn't prevented me."
"The hindrance need not last a moment," said I, bowing.
She looked at me for an instant, then broke into a reluctant smile.
"You haven't sent to say you were coming for a week," she said.
"No; nor come either."
"Yes, of course, that's it. Sit down; so will I. No, in your old place, over there. Max has been giving me a beautiful bracelet."
"That's very kind of Max."
She glanced at me with challenging witchery.
"And I've promised to wear it every day—never to be without it. Doesn't it look well?" She held up her arm where the gold and jewels sparkled on the white skin as the sleeve of her gown fell back.
I paid to Max's bracelet and the arm which wore it the meed of looks, not of words.
"I've been afraid to come," I said.
"Is there anything to be afraid of here?" she asked with a smile, and a wave of her hands.
"Because of Wetter's Bill."
