She smiled a little scornfully, very sadly, and the smile condemned him in his own consciousness; in her eyes he saw reflected for the first time the futility of his declarations, the shallow selfishness of his nature. It seemed to him that he shrivelled morally under her gaze. To Ragna he had become a stranger, the dream hero was shattered irremediably; the scales had fallen from her eyes and with a pitilessly clear vision she had seen the paltry egoism of the man's soul. Something had snapped within her,--a light had gone out; she wondered dully if anything could matter very much again. Mirko rose to his feet rather unsteadily and poured himself a glass of wine; as he raised it to his lips someone knocked on the door and he started, spilling half the contents of the glass. Maria's voice called cheerfully. "The vetturino wants to know at what hour the Signori will start, it is getting late." "Tell him we will start as soon as he is ready and send me the _addizione_," answered Mirko. He gulped down his wine, and then poured out another glass and carried it over to Ragna. "Drink this," he ordered and she obeyed mechanically. "Now," he said, "put on your hat and smooth your hair a little; don't let these people guess anything." Ragna flushed, but her pride was touched as he had meant it to be. She rose with an effort and walked lifelessly over to the dressing-table. She wet the corner of her handkerchief in the jug and dabbled it on her dark-ringed reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks; taking out a little comb from the back of her hair she straightened up her stray locks and resettled her heavy plaits. She put on her hat and tied over it a thick blue veil she found in the pocket of her ulster. When she had finished, she walked to a chair, passing the couch with a shudder, and sat down dully. Maria entered presently, carrying the bill on a plate; she looked curiously from the apathetic girl, shrouded in her heavy veil, to the self-possessed young man,--they were not like any lovers she had seen. "They must have quarreled," was her reflection. Mirko paid the modest bill and added a generous mancia at which the girl's eyes sparkled, and she thanked him effusively. "Is the carriage ready?" he inquired. "_Sissignore, eccola quà!_" As she spoke they heard the little trap rattling and jingling as it drew up outside. Mirko turned to Ragna: "If you are ready, we will go." She rose and avoiding his proffered hand, preceded him quickly down the stair and across the kitchen, walking head down, with a furtive air as though trying to escape observation. Maria and the hostess smiled significantly at each other as she passed.