“No; I could not ... and then I robbed him.... I preferred to ... it was more decent. Ah, I had excuses then. I began to steal to remain an honest woman ... and I’ve gone on stealing to keep up appearances. You see ... I joke about it.” And she laughed, the faint, dreadful, mocking laugh of a damned soul. “Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” she cried; and, burying her face in her hands, she burst into a storm of weeping. “Poor child,” said the Duke softly. And he stared gloomily on the ground, overcome by this revelation of the tortures of the feeble in the underworld beneath the Paris he knew. “Oh, you do pity me ... you do understand ... and feel,” said Sonia, between her sobs. The Duke raised his head and gazed at her with eyes full of an infinite sympathy and compassion. “Poor little Sonia,” he said gently. “I understand.” She gazed at him with incredulous eyes, in which joy and despair mingled, struggling. He came slowly towards her, and stopped short. His quick ear had caught the sound of a footstep outside the door. “Quick! Dry your eyes! You must look composed. The other room!” he cried, in an imperative tone. He caught her hand and drew her swiftly into the further drawing-room. With the quickness which came of long practice in hiding her feelings Sonia composed her face to something of its usual gentle calm. There was even a faint tinge of colour in her cheeks; they had lost their dead whiteness. A faint light shone in her eyes; the anguish had cleared from them. They rested on the Duke with a look of ineffable gratitude. She sat down on a couch. The Duke went to the window and lighted a cigarette. They heard the door of the outer drawing-room open, and there was a pause. Quick footsteps crossed the room, and Guerchard stood in the doorway. He looked from one to the other with keen and eager eyes. Sonia sat staring rather listlessly at the carpet. The Duke turned, and smiled at him. “Well, M. Guerchard,” he said. “I hope the burglars have not stolen the coronet.” “The coronet is safe, your Grace,” said Guerchard. “And the paper-knives?” said the Duke. “The paper-knives?” said Guerchard with an inquiring air. “The wedding presents,” said the Duke. “Yes, your Grace, the wedding presents are safe,” said Guerchard. “I breathe again,” said the Duke languidly. Guerchard turned to Sonia and said, “I was looking for you, Mademoiselle, to tell you that M. Formery has changed his mind. It is impossible for you to go out. No one will be allowed to go out.” “Yes?” said Sonia, in an indifferent tone. “We should be very much obliged if you would go to your room,” said Guerchard. “Your meals will be sent up to you.” “What?” said Sonia, rising quickly; and she looked from Guerchard to the Duke. The Duke gave her the faintest nod. “Very well, I will go to my room,” she said coldly. They accompanied her to the door of the outer drawing-room. Guerchard opened it for her and closed it after her.