Verisschenzko seemed to find her very soon--he was not one of those persons who miss things by vagueness. His yellow-green eyes were blazing when they met hers, and without any words he offered her his arm, foreign fashion, and drew her out on to the broad terrace to a secluded seat he had apparently selected beforehand, as there was no hesitancy in his advance towards this goal. He looked at her critically for an instant when they were seated in the soft gloom. "You are changed, Madame. Half the soul is awake now, but the other half has gone further to sleep." "--Yes, I felt you would say that--I do not like myself," and she sighed. "Tell me about it." "I seem to be drifting down such a useless stream--and it is all so mad and aimless, and yet it is fun. But every one is tired and restless and nobody cares for anything real--I am afraid I am not strong enough to stand aside from it though, and I wonder sometimes what I shall become." Verisschenzko looked at her earnestly--he was silent for some seconds. "Fate may alter the atmosphere. There are things hovering, I fear, of which you do not dream, little protected English bride. Perhaps it is good that you live while you can." "What things?" "Sorrows for the world. But tell me, have you seen Harietta Boleski in her London role?" "Yes--she is the greatest success--every one goes to her parties; she is coming to mine at Ardayre." Verisschenzko raised his eyebrows, and nothing could have been more sardonically whimsical than his smile. "I saw Stanislass this morning--he is almost _gaga_ now--a mere cypher--she has destroyed his body, as well as his soul." "They are both coming on the twenty-third." "It will be an interesting visit I do not doubt--and I shall see the Family house!" "I hope you will like it--I shall love to show it to you, and the pictures. It means so much to John." "Have you met your cousin Denzil yet?". Verisschenzko was studying her face; it had gained something, it was a little finer--but it had lost something too, and there was a shadow in her eyes. "Denzil Ardayre? No--What made you mention him now?" "I shall be curious as to what you think of him, he is so like--your husband, you know." The subject did not interest Amaryllis; she wanted to hear more of the Russian's unusual views. "You know London well, do you not?" she asked. "Yes--I often came up from Oxford when I was there, and I have revisited it since. It is a sane place generally, but this year it would seem to be almost as _desequilibre_ as the rest of the world." "You give me an uneasy feeling, as though you knew that something dreadful was going to happen. What is it? Tell me."