jewel-like eyes of the Malatesta Semiramis. Never in all her life had it happened to her to miss any one thing that she desired, and now a strange sense of loneliness and emptiness came upon her, unreasoned and unreasoning; and she had such an impatience and contempt of herself too all the while!—that was the most bitter part of it.
After all it was too absurd,———
As soon as the departure of the royal guests permitted anyone to leave, she went away, contemptuous, ill at ease, and out of temper with herself and all the world; half ignorant of what moved her, and half unwilling to probe her own emotions further.
"Plus on est fou, plus on rit," she murmured to her pillow two hours later with irritable disdain, as she heard the voices of Mme. Mila and her troop noisily passing her door as they returned to their night-long baccarat, which was to be doubly delightful because of the Prefect's interdict.
"I wish I had been born an idiot!" thought the Lady Hilda—as, indeed, any one must do
