Suddenly a start of terror ran through her. "No, no!" she said, wrestling with herself--"he'll scold me, perhaps--at first; of course I know he'll do that. And then, I'll make him laugh! He can't--he can't help laughing. I _know_ it'll amuse him. He'll see how I meant it, too. And nobody need ever find out." She heard his step outside, hastily locked her despatch-box, threw a shawl over it, and lay back languidly on her pillows, awaiting him. XVIII The following morning, early, a note was brought to Kitty from Madame d'Estrées: "Darling Kitty,--Will you join us to-night in an expedition? You know that Princess Margherita is staying on the Grand Canal?--in one of the Mocenigo palaces. There is to be a serenata in her honor to-night--not one of those vulgar affairs which the hotels get up, but really good music and fine voices--money to be given to some hospital or other. Do come with us. I suppose you have your own gondola, as we have. The gondolas who wish to follow meet at the Piazzetta, weather permitting, eight o'clock. I know, of course, that you are not going out. But this is _only_ music!--and for a charity. One just sits in one's gondola, and follows the music up the canal. Send word by bearer. Your fond mother, "Marguerite d'Estrées." Kitty tossed the note over to Ashe. "Aren't you dining out somewhere to-night?" Her voice was listless. And as Ashe lifted his head from the cabinet papers which had just reached him by special messenger, his attention was disagreeably recalled from high matters of state to the very evident delicacy of his wife. He replied that he had promised to dine with Prince S---- at Danieli's, in order to talk Italian politics. "But I can throw it over in a moment, if you want me. I came to Venice for _you_, darling," he said, as he rose and joined her on the balcony which commanded a fine stretch of the canal. "No, no! Go and dine with your prince. I'll go with maman--Margaret and I. At least, Margaret must, of course, please herself!" She shrugged her shoulders, and then added, "Maman's probably in the pink of society here. Venice doesn't take its cue from people like Aunt Lina!" Ashe smiled uncomfortably. He was in truth by this time infinitely better acquainted with the incidents of Madame d'Estrées's past career than Kitty was. He had no mind whatever that Kitty should become less ignorant, but his knowledge sometimes made conversation difficult. Kitty was perfectly aware of his embarrassment. "You never tell me--" she said, abruptly. "Did she really do such dreadful things?" "My dear Kitty!--why talk about it?" Kitty flushed, then threw a flower into the water below with a defiant gesture. "What does it matter? It's all so long ago. I have nothing to do with what I did ten years ago--nothing!" "A convenient doctrine!" laughed Ashe. "But it cuts both ways. You get neither the good of your good nor the bad of your bad."