"There!"
She really was beautiful at that moment, in her dressing-gown of a warm yellow tint, with her streaming dark hair down to a hand's-breadth below her waist. She looked far lovelier and younger than the night before. Her eyes shone with that look of intense animation which, in former days, they had been wont to assume when Maironi entered the room, or even when she heard his step outside.
"I wish I had the toilette I wore at Praglia," she said. "I should like to appear before him in my green fur-lined cloak, now, in May! I should like him to see at a glance how unchanged I am, and how much I wish to remain unchanged! Oh! my God, my God!"
With a sudden impulse she threw her arms about Noemi's neck, and pressed her face against her shoulder, stifling a sob and murmuring words Noemi could not distinguish.
"No, no, no!" she cried at last. "I am mad! I am wicked! Let us go away, let us go away!" She raised her tearful face. "Let us go to Rome!" said she.
"Yes, yes!" Noemi answered in great agitation, "we will go to Rome. We will leave at once. Let me go and ask when the next train starts."
Jeanne immediately seized upon her and held her back. No, no, it was madness. What would her sister say? What would her brother-in-law think? It was madness, an impos-
