He remembered that there was a certain stubbornness in her character, a certain decision, and no little courage. Regard for her children, it is true, ought to restrain her; but did she really care for those children? And at thought of what might happen, the hair rose on his head. Conscience moved in him again, and a profound internal struggle began. The picture of Panna Cervi passed before his eyes every moment, rousing bitter and immense regret. He repeated to himself, it is true, that he was going to break with Pani Elzen; that he would break with her decisively; at the bottom of his soul, however, he felt a great fear. What would happen if that woman, vain and malicious, as well as determined, should say to him, "Thee, or morphine"? And meanwhile, with the alarm and uncertainty, there was born in his mind a disgust; for it seemed to him that the question could be put that way only by some counterfeit heroine belonging to "vile literature." But still what would happen if she should put it so? In society, especially in the society of Nice, there are many women who belong to "vile literature." In the midst of these thoughts, and in a cloud of gray dust, he arrived finally at Monte Carlo, and ordered the driver to stop in front of the Hôtel de Paris. But before he had time to alight he descried Romulus and Remus on the turf with netted clubs in their hands; throwing up balls under the care of a Cossack whom Pani Lageat had called the strangely dressed servant. They, when they saw him, ran up. "Good-day, sir!" "Good-day." "Good-day! Is mamma upstairs?" "No. Mamma has gone bicycling with M. de Sinten." Silence followed. "Ah! mamma has gone bicycling with De Sinten?" repeated Svirski. "Well!" And after a while he added,-- "True! she expected me only at four o'clock." Then he began to laugh. "The tragedy ends in a farce. But this, however, is the Riviera! Still what an ass I am!" "Will you wait for mamma?" asked Romulus. "No. Listen, my boys. Tell your mamma that I came to say good-bye to her, and that I am sorry not to find her, because I am going on a journey to-day." Then he gave directions to return to Nice. That evening he received one telegram more, in which there was the single word, "Scoundrel!" After reading it he fell into excellent humor, for the telegram was not signed this time, "Morphine." CHAPTER X. Two weeks later the picture "Sleep and Death" was finished. Svirski began another which he intended to call "Euterpe." But his work did not advance. He said that the light was too sharp; and for whole sittings, instead of painting, he was looking at the bright face of Panna Cervi. He seemed to be seeking the proper expression for Euterpe. He gazed so persistently that the lady grew red under the influence of his eyes; he felt in his breast an increasing disquiet. At last, on a certain morning, he said suddenly, in a kind of strange, altered voice,-- "I notice that you ladies love Italy immensely."