Usk had left him, and was hastening round the corner of the house. As he reached the terrace, however, he saw the stranger already descending the steps to her carriage. She glanced over her shoulder at him--he noticed that her eyelids were artificially darkened--and laughed gaily when she saw his angry face. In a moment she was driving away, kissing her finger-tips lightly to Helene. The action raised Usk’s wrath to white heat. “How dare you take up that woman?” he demanded fiercely of Helene. “Surely your own self-respect ought to have kept you from speaking to her.” “I thought she wasn’t very nice,” murmured Helene, gazing at him with dilated eyes. “Her hair was such a strange colour--I think it must be false--and her skin looked--oh, so _dead_ when she came close. But she sat down here by me, and talked.” “She’s one of the most notorious women in Europe,” fumed Usk, “and now she’ll spread it abroad that you have noticed her and received her, and what will your people think of me for letting you do it?” “But you couldn’t help it, nor could I,” pleaded Helene. “Why didn’t you get rid of her, when you saw the kind of woman she was? I thought exalted persons like you always knew how to dispose of people who tried to force themselves upon your notice?” “I don’t know how to be rude,” said Helene, with heightened colour. “No one who was unfit to speak to me has ever been allowed to come near me before.” “That’s a nasty one for me!” said Usk, whose wrath was beginning to evaporate. “Oh, Nym, I am so sorry; I didn’t mean it. And see, I will tell you how it was that I felt obliged to listen to her. I didn’t dare even to try to cut her short, lest I should lose something important. She talked about the dear Count.” “I might have known it! More lies, I suppose?” “I don’t know; I suppose so, I hope so. She said, just as Cousin Ottilie did, that he had gone away of his own accord, but--I couldn’t quite understand--I think she wanted to make me believe that she was the lady Prince Pelenko said he saw in the carriage with him. At least, she talked as if she knew him quite well, and could tell us where he was now, and she said such horrible things. I don’t know whether she only suggested them, or really said they had happened, but I know she hinted that the Count had--had got rid of poor M. Paschics because he knew too much, and he had no more money with which to keep his mouth shut. And she talked about a gay life among the islands somewhere, and then she spoke just as if the dear Count was mad, and told me a dreadful story about some one she knew once who had spent all his money, and was found by his relations, quite by chance, in a refuge for lunatics somewhere near Trieste. She said they had advertised for him everywhere, but he had forgotten his own name, and it was only because his nephew happened to catch sight of him that he was recognised. Do you think--she could mean--that the dear Count is in one of those terrible places?”