Martha made a weak little effort to get her friend to come to her again, but to this she received such a faint response that she let the subject drop. All sorts of conjectures were busy in her mind to account for the present phenomena. She even wondered if she and her brother, with their American education and ideas, could have done anything which offered an affront to the state and dignity of their princess-guest. But this could hardly be. Sonia was as friendly and affectionate as ever, though she now seemed to wish to confine their intercourse to the limits of the atelier, and did not even ask her to come to her own apartments. So Martha was free to give up all her spare time to her brother, and they had numerous trips to the theater and opera; but somehow the _solitude à deux_ with her beloved Harold had not the zest in it which she had counted on beforehand. He was certainly changed, this brother of hers. He had grown more serious, and was given to long silences. She even thought that it was an effort to him to be so much in her society, and that he would perhaps prefer to be alone. This was a hard blow to Martha, but she bore it without making a sign, and was glad of the excuse which her work gave her to be much away from him. He also had important business in Paris, and often worked for many hours at a time, which, as Martha told herself, accounted for his rather careworn expression. She even thought he was getting thin, and begged him not to stay on because of her, as she would far rather give up her lessons and join her mother than be a trouble and injury to him. This, however, he would not listen to, and he even declared it his intention to stay in Paris until after the opening of the Salon, now only a week or so off. Day after day went by, and although Sonia and Martha were together at least one half of their conscious time, they seemed to have in some way gone backward instead of forward in their intimacy. They still lunched together daily, and had ample opportunity for talk; but there seemed now a dearth of topics such as they had never been aware of before, and a sense of distance had arisen which made it hard for Martha to realize the familiarity and nearness which had marked their former intercourse. One afternoon, when the work had been going more than usually well, and the model had been more than usually interesting, Sonia and Martha, their easels side by side, had lingered in the atelier after every one else had gone. It was very agreeable to be able to paint and talk together, and the princess, whose carriage had been announced some time before, gladly agreed to wait with Martha until hers should arrive. While they were talking, a knock was heard at the door, and as all rules were relaxed at this hour, both women called out, “_Entrez!_”