We reached the bedroom at last. The princess was lying in an invalid's chair and seemed to be awaiting us impatiently. She was a woman of about thirty years, very thin, with a yellow face, and magnificently dressed, although _en déshabillé_. She must have been very beautiful in her early days, and she still had a charming face. The thinness of her cheeks exaggerated the size of her eyes, the whites of which, vitrified by consumption, resembled mother of pearl. Her fine, smooth hair was of a glistening black and seemed dry and sickly like her whole person. When she saw me, she uttered a faint exclamation of joy and held out a long, tapering hand, of a bluish tinge, which I fancy that I can see at this moment. I understood, by a glance from Leoni, that I was expected to kiss that hand, and I resigned myself to the necessity. Leoni was undoubtedly ill at ease, and yet his self-possession and the tranquillity of his manners confounded me. He spoke of me to his mistress as if there were no possibility of her discovering his knavery, and expressed his affection for her before me, as if it were impossible for me to feel any grief or anger. The princess seemed to have fits of distrust from time to time, and I could see, by her glances and her words, that she was studying me in order to destroy her suspicions or confirm them. As my natural mildness of disposition made it impossible for her to hate me, she soon began to have confidence in me; and, jealous as she was, to the point of frenzy, she thought that it was impossible for any woman to consent to take the part I was playing. An adventuress might have done it, but my manners and my face gave the lie to any such conjecture as to my character. The princess became passionately fond of me. She would hardly allow me to leave her bedroom, she overwhelmed me with gifts and caresses. I was a little humiliated by her generosity and I longed to refuse her gifts; but the fear of displeasing Leoni made me endure this additional mortification. What I had to suffer during the first days, and the efforts that I made to bend my pride to that extent, are beyond belief. However, the suffering gradually became less keen, and my mental plight became endurable. Leoni manifested in secret a passionate gratitude and delirious fondness. The princess, despite her whims, her impatience, and all the torture that her love for Leoni caused me, became agreeable and almost dear to me. Her heart was ardent rather than loving, and her nature lavish rather than generous. But she had an irresistible charm of manner; the wit with which her language sparkled in the midst of her most intense agony, the ingeniously kind and caressing words with which she thanked me for my attentions or begged me to forget her outbreaks of temper, her little cajoleries, her shrewd observations, the coquetry which attended her to the grave; in short, everything about her had an originality, a