herself was very pale, – that her dead black hair and eyes made her face look unnaturally white. Her eyelids were heavy too, but the rich curve of her lips was brightly red as ever.
After that one long look into Gretchen's face, Tryphosa let go the hand she held, and with a bitter sigh turned aside. Then she sat down, asking Gretchen with a movement to do the same.
It was all very solemn and very mysterious, thought Gretchen; beginning inwardly to wonder why she had been sent for, and when the Princess was going to break the long silence that followed.
The Princess was watching the door, with an evident look of expectancy on her face. Gretchen found herself watching the door too, and wondering with trepidation who or what the Princess was waiting for.
The door opened, and there entered – a tray of dulcétia, borne by a servant. Could that have been what the Princess was waiting for? Yes, evidently and obviously. A gradual look of satisfaction suffused Tryphosa's face. She superintended the placing of the dish, and with a whispered direction to the servant, dismissed him from the room.
When the door was closed again, it was evident -that the real business of the evening was going to begin. Princess Tryphosa's nation has borrowed many Turkish habits; and no Turk will proceed to business, or pronounce a word upon any subject of importance, until the guest has partaken of refreshment.
Gretchen found herself helped to some sickly sweet stuff, which she detested at the first mouthful.
Tryphosa did not speak until after her spoon had travelled several times up and down between her lips and the little silver plate. What she said then was sufficiently startling.
"Mademoiselle, we ought to hate each other."
"I hope not," said Gretchen, hastily putting down her plate. She had not allowed herself to make any conjectures as to what Tryphosa's meaning might be in sending for her thus. She had come here with much curiosity, some anxiety, and a little uncertain, undefined hope.
Tryphosa swallowed another mouthful of the dulcétia, and said, "You are very beautiful."
She said it merely as if stating a bare fact, not with flattery, and scarcely with bitterness.
"And are you not beautiful yourself?" said Gretchen, flushing; "and is that a reason why we should hate each other?"
"And he thinks so."
It was a continuation of her former phrase upon which the Princess was still engaged.
The flush spread higher on Gretchen's face, but she kept silent.
"I ought to hate you," said the Princess, in her deep, calm voice: "but I liked you at first, and I cannot change so soon."
The thought in Tryphosa's mind, which she intended to express, was, that having begun by liking Gretchen, it would have taken her too long to undo that liking and to mature a dislike in its place.
"If I had known what you were going to do, I should have begun by hating you."
"And what have I done?"
Oh the fixed stare of those great dark eyes! It was hard to bear it unflinchingly. The Princess very deliberately put down her silver plate, and quite as deliberately took up a feather-fan before she spoke.
"You have taken away from
