"It is a singular place. It is a very singular place, indeed. But that has nothing to do with the matter. It is as I say. You have a picture, Mr. Lovell, at the Academy?" "I have." "It is a portrait." "Pardon me, it is not a portrait." "Pardon me, Mr. Lovell, in my turn; it is a portrait. As a portrait, it is a perfect portrait. It is a portrait of my wife." "Of your wife! You are dreaming!" "You flatter me, Mr. Lovell. Is it that you suppose I am an imbecile? Are not the features of a wife familiar to a husband? Very good. I am the husband of my wife. Your picture, Mr. Lovell, is a portrait of my wife." "I cannot but think you have mistaken some other picture for mine. Mine is a simple study of a woman's face. It is called 'A Vision of the Night.'" "Precisely. And 'A Vision of the Night'--is my wife." "It is impossible!" "Do I understand you to say, Mr. Lovell, of a thing which I say is so--that it is impossible?" The Vicomte rose. His voice had a very significant intonation. Mr. Lovell resented it. "I do not know, Vicomte, that I am _called_ upon to explain to you. But, in face of your remarkable statement, I will _volunteer_ an explanation. I saw the face, which I have painted, in a dream." "Indeed; is that so? What sort of dream was it in which you saw my wife's face, Mr. Lovell?" The young man flushed. The stranger's tone was distinctly offensive. "It was in a dream which I dreamt last August, at Spa." "Ah! This is curious. At what hotel were you stopping last August at Spa?" "At the Hotel de Flandre--though I don't know why you ask." "So! We approach a point at last. Last August, my wife and I, we were at Spa. We stayed, my wife and I, at the Hotel de Flandre. It was at the Hotel de Flandre my wife left me. I have never seen her since. Perhaps, Mr. Gerald Lovell, you will be so good as to inform me what sort of dream it was in which you saw my wife's face, at the Hotel de Flandre, last August, at Spa?" Mr. Lovell hesitated. He perceived that caution was advisable. He felt that if he entered into minute particulars of his dream, there might be a misunderstanding with the Vicomte. So he temporized--or he endeavoured to. "I have already told you that I saw the face in my picture in a dream. It is the simple fact--that I have no other explanation to offer." "Is that so?" "That is so."