'Very curious, very amusing, the whole thing--ha, ha! And so that story about the three hundred a year was--part of your poem, I suppose?' 'Not at all. But the Countess Almara being my papa's selection, I risked nothing in marrying her. I tried to explain it to you at the time, but you pitched into me so, and insisted upon my leaving her and marrying somebody else, that at last, just for the fun of the thing, I allowed you to believe that I was really as great a fool as you took me for.' Hereupon ensued a pause of some minutes. Jeff, I believe, lit a cigarette. What I did I have no recollection; but I must have remained standing before the easel. At length I felt that Jeff was standing behind me. 'It couldn't be better, really,' he said. 'They'll like it so much at home.' 'Beg pardon?' 'It's to go to Boston, you know, to give papa and mamma an idea of how their daughter-in-law looks. Ah! you've put in the ring, too. I'm glad of that. Handsome ruby, isn't it?' 'An antique. Such rings are not made nowadays.' 'Except by Tiffany; he manufactures them after the antique models. I got this at his store in New York six months ago, and paid fifteen hundred dollars for it. By the way, my dear Campbell, how much will this sketch be?' 'Hum, let me see. How long have I been over it?' 'Just six days.' 'Well, then, I'll let it go for six thousand pounds. I don't care to make money out of friends.' The smoke of Jeff's cigarette got into his windpipe; and while he was coughing the door opened, and the two countesses, followed by the Count, came in. After the portrait had been criticised and the compliments exchanged I drew near to Almara, who was standing apart from the others, near the easel. 'Countess, permit my congratulations.' There was a slight involuntary quivering of the eyebrows and of the corner of her mouth, and she kept her eyes upon the portrait as she said in a low tone-- 'You know it, then?' 'Your future husband has just told me.' She shifted her position a little, and began to blush slowly. 'I have included a portrait of the ruby, you observe,' I went on. 'Are you satisfied with it?' 'Very well--excellent,' she said mechanically. 'I was not sure whether you might prefer to have it omitted. That evening on the beach--you remember,--you seemed to wish it out of the way. I will conjure it away even now, if you say the word,' and I took up the palette and brushes. There was a pause: she understood me; the colour gradually left her face, which she still kept averted. At length, with a perceptible effort, she said-- 'It had better remain.' 'I think so too,' I said, laying down the palette. The company was now prepared to depart. 'Before you go, Countess, I wish--merely out of curiosity--that you would tell me one thing.' 'Well, monsieur?' 'Are you an angel or a devil?' Then at last she raised her face, pale as marble, and her black eyes met mine in a quiet, strange look. She shrugged her shoulders slightly.