AS SONIA got out of her carriage before the house in the Place de la Madeleine, and mounted the steps with her maid, her heart was beating violently, but she had never been stronger in the sense of complete self-possession. She knew that a difficult ordeal was before her, but she had no fear that her spirit would falter. It was only necessary for her to remember her former weakness, and how she had paled and cowered before Harold, to make her securer in her defiant resolution with every pulse-beat. At the door of the apartment she dismissed her maid, and, dropping the train of her heavy dress, swept into the little ante-chamber, regally tall and self-collected, to the admiration of the servants, who thought her every inch a princess. A door opposite opened, and Martha appeared in a pretty evening gown and led her friend into the salon. Near the table, holding the “Figaro” in his hands, and bending his eyes upon its columns, sat Harold. His severe evening dress, his grave, dark face, with its close-trimmed, pointed beard, and his straight, smooth hair, with its definite part, all spoke of composure, deliberation, and repose. He rose to his feet, laid down the paper, and stood in his place, waiting. His sister’s guest had taken off her lace hood and thrown open her cloak, between the parted folds of which appeared a rich evening dress. She came forward, moving lightly in her heavy garments, and when Martha, with a fluttering heart, which made her manner somewhat excited and confused, said, looking from one to the other, “My brother, Mr. Keene--the Princess Mannernorff,” she looked him full in the face with what Martha thought a rather haughty look, and gave him a somewhat ceremonious bow. Harold met her gaze with unflinching eyes, and bowed in his turn with an air which Martha thought unnecessarily formal and distant. After all she had said to each about the other, it disappointed her that their meeting should be so absolutely without cordiality. She asked her friend if she would come into her room to lay aside her wraps; but the latter declined, and threw her cloak and hood upon a chair before Harold had time to offer his assistance. She was dressed in a plain gown of thick yellow satin, with trimmings of brown fur and creamy lace. A diamond arrow pierced the mass of her rich brown hair, and a great clasp of many-colored jewels in an antique setting held the folds of her gown at the waist. She wore no other ornaments, and her beautiful arms and hands were without bracelets or rings. She did not seat herself, but opened a fan, and stood waving it softly as she looked down at Martha from her greater height. The introduction had, of course, been in French, and the conversation continued in that language. In strong contrast to her glowing brilliancy of color Harold was very pale as he stood with his shoulders braced against the mantel, and talked to her. He was, however, quite as collected as she.