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"
"No, no. I see that now." She laughed without mirth, then drew a
deep breath and rose. "I am very tired," she said.
He was on his feet in an instant, all solicitude. But she waved
him wearily back.
"I think I will rest until it is time to go to the theatre." She
moved towards the door, dragging her feet a little. He sprang to
open it, and she passed out without looking at him.
Her so brief romantic dream was ended. The glorious world of fancy
which in the last hour she had built with such elaborate detail,
over which it should be her exalted destiny to rule, lay shattered
about her feet, its debris so many stumbling-blocks that prevented
her from winning back to her erstwhile content in Scaramouche as he
really was.
Andre-Louis sat in the window embrasure, smoking and looking idly
out across the river. He was intrigued and meditative. He had
shocked her. The fact was clear; not so the reason. That he should
confess himself nameless should not particularly injure him in the
eyes of a girl reared amid the surroundings that had been Climene's.


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