That night Arthur and I were to accompany a charming English couple, whose acquaintance we had made at the hotel, to the opera. It was an appointment dating from a week ago, and I remembered it with regret. I would have preferred passing the evening alone with my husband. However, I reflected that I could not offend these people, who were of that genial, whole-souled class, whose acquaintance is a privilege, and whose friendship is nothing less than a boon. After all, a future of unoccupied evenings was before me. Arthur and I undoubtedly had time even to grow tired of one another, I thought, and I smiled at the idea.
At that moment an ebony head-waiter knocked at the door and brought in our breakfast, and two minutes later my husband emerged from his chamber, looking bright and pleasant. At all events, I said to myself, if there were any presentiments in the atmosphere, they had all fallen to my share.
"What a lovely day," remarked Arthur, with daring originality as we took our seats at the
