A flame burned her face. Never did she forget the shame which this flush caused her. It lasted a moment. Then she looked contemptuously at Marianna, and remembered that the girl might have spoken without intention; merely one of her usual insolent follies. Still, all her pulses had been set throbbing. "At all costs I must get rid of this incubus," she thought, not for the first, the second, the hundredth time. To-day she felt that her trouble, real or imaginary, had come to the crisis, and must be resolved, either by deliverance or by death. The old ladies and gentlemen were all gathered round their hostess, who, whitewashed and wan, seemed in that sparkling circle like a decaying pearl in a broken setting. They were talking of the suicide of a Russian personage, a Mæcenas known to all Europe. One of the speakers, himself a Russian, told of a dinner he had attended a few days before in Paris, given by artists and noblemen to the rich suicide, and of all the intrigues and evil diplomacy connected with that symposium, and the bonds, more or less shameful, by which its guests were united among themselves. Regina listened and remembered that she had listened to similar conversations a hundred times. What struck her was the simplicity with which the Russian talked, and the eagerness with which the others listened. No one was abashed; some even gave signs of approbation, and seemed delighted at hearing a scandal, which, for the most part, they already knew. It was the way of the world! And was she to be surprised if one of these wrongs, which, it appeared, were habitual with all the men and women of this earth, had come home to herself? For a moment she asked, was she not a fool to be so disturbed? Then the question horrified her. She felt herself stifled. The heat of the room, here and there still decked with furs, gave her really a feeling of oppression and suffocation. Surely the feline creatures were becoming alive! Their skins were filling out; they were moving, approaching her! puffing hot breath in her face, musky and voluptuous scent! They fascinated her with their glassy eyes, raised their padded paws, slowly, softly; hugged her, smothered her! Air! air! To free herself, or else to die! Another moment, and she, Regina--erring, perhaps, but not impure, who, on the banks of her native river, had dreamed of all in life which is worthy to support life--another moment, and she would die of asphyxia! Instinctively she got up and made her way to the marble terrace, whence a stair led to the garden. A man was working at a round plot like a tart, edged with velvet grass and patterned with bedding plants. Everything was soft and artificial in the little green and flowery garden, strewn with wistaria petals. The sunset light flushed the garland of white roses which hung from the laurel above the little gate. At this hour the little gate was shut.