She derived some pleasure out of the sensation she created when she went into a restaurant, and she really looked extraordinarily handsome. The dinner amused her, too; it was entertaining to make Ferdinand jealous. The emotions of Stanislass had ceased to count to her in any way whatsoever. Verisschenzko had discovered what he required in regard to Ferdinand Ardayre before they went into the hall for coffee--there was nothing further to be gained by having another tete-a-tete with Harietta, so he sat down by Stanislass and suggested that the other two should go on to the Coliseum without them, and Harietta was obliged to depart reluctantly with Ferdinand, having arranged that Stepan should let her know, directly he arrived in Paris, whither he was going in a day or two also. When she had left them Stanislass Boleski turned melancholy eyes to his old friend, but remained silent. "Has it been worth it?" Verisschenzko asked, with certain feeling--they had relapsed into Russian. Stanislass sighed deeply. "No--far from it--I am broken and finished, Stepan, she has devoured my soul--" "Why don't you kill her! I should." The Pole clenched one of his transparent looking hands: "I cannot--I desire her so--she is an obsession. I cannot work--she leaves me neither time nor brain. But I want her always, she is a burning torment, and a blast, and a sin. I see visions of the chance that I have missed, and then all is obliterated by her voluptuous kisses. I die each day with jealousy and shame. She withholds herself, and I would pay with the blood from my veins to possess her again!" "You have no longer any delusions about her--you see her as a curse and a vampire?" Stanislass reddened. "I see everything, but I know only desire. Stepan, she has dragged me through every degradation. I am a witness of her unfaithfulness. She gives herself to this Turk with hardly a pretence of concealment--I know it--I burn with rage, and I can do nothing. She returns to my arms and I forget everything. I am a most unhappy man and only death can release me, and yet I wish to live because I love her. Each day is fierce longing for her--each night away from her hell--" Tears sprang to his hopeless black eyes and his voice broke with emotion. Verisschenzko looked at him and a rough pity tempered his contempt. Here was a case where an indulgence having become master was exacting a hideous toll. But the net was drawing closer and when all the strands were in his hands he would act without mercy. CHAPTER XVI