He had scarcely finished when there was a tap at the door, and Dmitry appeared with a note. The thin, remembered paper thrilled him, and he took it from the servant's hand. "Paul--I am in the devil's mood to-day. About 5 o'clock come to me by the terrace steps." That was all--there was no date or signature. But Paul's heart beat in his throat with joy. "I want the skin to go to Madame," he said. "Have you any means of conveying it to her without the whole world seeing it go?" The stately servant bowed. "If the Excellency would help him to fold it up," he said, "he would take it now to his own room, and from thence to the _appartement numero 3_." It is not a very easy thing to fold up a huge tiger-skin into a brown paper parcel tied with string. But it was accomplished somehow and Dmitry disappeared noiselessly with it and an answer to the note: "I will be there, sweet lady. "Your own PAUL." And he was. A bright fire burnt in the grate, and some palest orchid-mauve silk curtains were drawn in the lady's room when Paul entered from the terrace. And loveliest sight of all, in front of the fire, stretched at full length, was his tiger--and on him--also at full length--reclined the lady, garbed in some strange clinging garment of heavy purple crepe, its hem embroidered with gold, one white arm resting on the beast's head, her back supported by a pile of the velvet cushions, and a heap of rarely bound books at her side, while between her red lips was a rose not redder than they--an almost scarlet rose. Paul had never seen one as red before. The whole picture was barbaric. It might have been some painter's dream of the Favourite in a harem. It was not what one would expect to find in a sedate Swiss hotel. She did not stir as he stepped in, dropping the heavy curtains after him. She merely raised her eyes, and looked Paul through and through. Her whole expression was changed; it was wicked and dangerous and _provocante_. It seemed quite true, as she had said--she was evidently in the devil's mood. Paul bounded forward, but she raised one hand to stop him. "No! you must not come near me, Paul. I am not safe to-day. Not yet. See, you must sit there and we will talk." And she pointed to a great chair of Venetian workmanship and wonderful old velvet which was new to his view. "I bought that chair in the town this morning at the curiosity shop on the top of Weggisstrasse, which long ago was the home of the Venetian envoy here--and you bought me the tiger, Paul. Ah! that was good. My beautiful tiger!" And she gave a movement like a snake, of joy to feel its fur under her, while she stretched out her hands and caressed the creature where the hair turned white and black at the side, and was deep and soft. "Beautiful one! beautiful one!" she purred. "And I know all your feelings and your passions, and now I have got your skin--for the joy of my skin!" And she quivered again with the movements of a snake.