This little scene attracted the notice of the idler from the balcony, and as he advanced, drawn rather by amusement than by any special interest on his own part in the _Paradiso_, the lady of the chair turned her eyeglass upon him. A moment later she had dropped it and risen to her feet, exclaiming: “What, Lennox--Mr. Kyrle!” Lennox Kyrle--for it was he--started and looked at her for an instant; then he held out his hand, saying, quietly: “This is a very unexpected pleasure, Mrs. Meredith.” Fanny Meredith turned from white to red, and red to white again. His composure seemed to rebuke her agitation and that slip of the tongue--“Lennox.” Moreover, she could not forget that this was the first time they had met since parting as lovers. But she recovered herself quickly, and, glancing up as she gave him her hand, said, a little reproachfully: “I knew you at once, though you have changed, but you were not sure of me.” “Yet you have _not_ changed,” said he, smiling and wondering--so quick is thought!--as he looked into her upturned face, where he had found the charm which once enslaved him. She had not changed, he was quite right about that; but where was there inspiration for any of the rapture and agony of passion in this blooming, piquant, commonplace countenance? As he held the hand which he had once so eagerly coveted, he thanked Heaven for that old disappointment, while he said, “But I could not expect to meet you here.” “As easily as I could expect to meet you,” she answered, “though it is true I heard that you had gone to Egypt as a war correspondent. But the war has been over for some time.” “For something like half a year,” he replied; “but I have been up the Nile, and, had it not been for a sudden summons calling me home, I might be emulating Stanley in equatorial Africa now.” “I should think you would rather be here,” said Mrs. Meredith, with a little shudder. “We have lately come, and I am delighted with Venice.” “Most people are,” said Lennox; “and by ‘we’ you mean, I presume, Mr. Meredith and yourself?” “And the Joscelyns. We joined them in Paris. You know the Joscelyns? No? Well, at least”--with a sudden laugh and blush--“you remember Aimée?”