Blanche stood rooted to the spot, shivering a little as she peered through the myrtle hedge, but never moving. Presently the young woman lifted her head, called out "Si," and went indoors, evidently in answer to a summons. "Nina," sang out Lord Level. "Nina"--raising his voice higher--"I have left my cigar-case on the table; bring it to me when you come out again." He spoke in English. The next minute the girl returned, cigar-case in hand. She took her place by his side, as before, and they fell to talking again. Lady Level drew away. She went home with flagging steps and a bitterly rebellious heart. Not to her husband would she speak; her haughty lips were sealed to him--and should be ever, she resolved in her new pain. But she gave a hint the next day of what she had again seen to Mrs. Page Reid. That lady only laughed. To her mind it was altogether a rich joke. Not only the affair itself, but Blanche's ideas upon it. "My dear Lady Level," she rejoined, "as I said before, you are very ignorant of the ways of the world. I assure you our husbands like to chatter to others as well as to us. Nothing wrong, of course, you understand; the mistake is, if we so misconstrue it. Lord Level is a very attractive man, you know, and has had all sorts of escapades." "I never knew that he had had them." "Well, it is hardly likely he would tell you of them before you were his wife. He will tell you fast enough some day." "Won't you tell me some of them now?" Blanche was speaking very equably, as if worldly wisdom had come to her all at once; and Mrs. Page Reid began to ransack her memory for this, that, or the other that she might have heard of Lord Level. As tales of scandal never lose by carrying, she probably converted mole-hills into mountains; most assuredly so to Blanche's mind. Anyway, she had better have held her tongue. From that time, what with one doubt and another, Lady Level's regard for her lord was changed. Her feeling towards him became most bitter. Resentment?--indignation?--neither is an adequate word for it. At the week's end they left Pisa, for the month was up, and travelled back by easy stages to Savoy. Blanche wanted to go direct to England, but Lord Level objected: he said she had not yet seen enough of Switzerland. It was in Savoy that her illness came on--the mal du pays, as they called it. When she grew better, they started towards home; travelling slowly and halting at every available spot. That his wife's manner had changed to him, Lord Level could only perceive, but he had no suspicion of its cause. He put it down to her anger at his keeping her so long away from England.