“No! Don’t adopt such an attitude! Now you are acting the part of a resigned victim! You must act according to your own free will and pleasure. I think I have proved to your satisfaction that you are turning your back on the right path, and that it is time to turn round. Am I not right?” “One is never right when one is the stronger!” “That is a woman’s reply. Well, Sophia, I am very sorry, but I will not assume this advantage of imposing on you any resolution whatever. I leave you free to do as you wish. Stay or go as you like. For my part, I must go; I do not feel inclined to let myself be caught in this house like a fox in a poultry-yard. I will give you ten minutes while you make up your mind and prepare your luggage. I will smoke a cigarette in the garden. Decide your future for yourself.” He left the room. A flash of hate shone in Sophia’s eyes. She arose, gave a sigh of despair, and then murmured— “He is right!” She called for Milona. The servant appeared. “The trunk at once. We are leaving,” she said briefly. “Good, madame.” Sophia sat down before a small desk, took up a sheet of writing-paper edged with black, and wrote— “MY DEAR MARCEL, “When you return to the villa I shall no longer be here to receive you. My brother, to whom I have been denounced by some person unknown, has arrived in a passion, and is taking me far away. Never try to see me again. Keep the remembrance of my kisses ever fresh in your heart. I am carrying off the delicious flavour of yours on my lips. Good-bye. “Yours with life-long regret, “ANETTA.” Sealing the envelope, she placed it in full view on the table of the salon, and, after looking all around, she went out into the small garden. Cesare was walking to and fro, along the alley, where she had spent so many hours by Marcel’s side. She sighed deeply. But her mind was made up, and she was not a woman to draw back. “Well?” asked the Italian. “Well, you have convinced me; I will accompany you.” “Very good. Now you are yourself again. It was only a momentary weakness which came over you.” “Indeed, I was mad,” she said, mockingly. “Just think, I was in love with this young Baradier.” “That I can well understand,” he conceded graciously. “He is a charming young fellow. But everything comes to an end. And since, thanks to this intrigue, you have obtained the result so ardently followed up by Hans, the only thing we can now do is to quit. And that is what you are now doing, with your usual good sense. Just now you surprised me, I must confess, by your resistance. This is the first time I have ever seen you sentimental. This fit of idyllic tenderness seemed quite incomprehensible to me. Now, can you explain to me what has taken place?”