"I promise," he answered.

And the words were no less sincere because she mistook the speaker. A smile of heavenly rapture came over her face; she tried to speak and failed. But Victor understood her wish and kissed her. As their lips parted she sighed quiveringly.

"She is dead," said Dr. Lommel.

VII.

Victor laid the body gently back upon the bed and rose to his feet. He seized his friend by the shoulders; the tears were streaming down his cheeks.

"O _mon Dieu_, Jean!" he cried, "to deceive such trust. I feel as if I had been violating a sacrament."

"I know," the other answered; "but ah, how happy she was!"

Interlude Fifth.

"SUCH SWEET SORROW."

"SUCH SWEET SORROW."

Parting is such sweet sorrow.

_Romeo and Juliet_, ii. 2.

[_A drawing-room. f.a.n.n.y Motley, who has been making a long call upon her bosom friend, Alice Langley, has at last risen to go._]

_Alice._ Oh, don't go yet. I haven't told you half the things I wanted to.

_f.a.n.n.y._ Oh, I must go. I've got to go home to dress for Mrs. Fresco's dinner. _Do_ you suppose Jack will be there?

_A._ He told me he was going.

_F._ Oh, I do _hope_ he won't fail. I do _so_ want to joke him about his sleigh-ride with Ella. Do you suppose she wore her hat with the orange plumes? It's awfully unbecoming to her. It makes her look just salmon color.

_A._ She always had perfectly hideous taste. Do you remember that dowdy gown of green plush and mauve tulle she wore to Kate West's german? It was a perfect dream of horror.

_F._ Yes; didn't she look _per_-fectly hideous? Well (_moving toward the door_), come and see me just as soon as you can.

_A._ I'll come in to-morrow before sewing-circle, if I can, to hear about the dinner. Don't be too hard on Jack. You know he's _aw_-fully thin-skinned.

_F._ Oh, I won't be hard on him.

_A._ (_pausing as they reach the door_) Is that the boa you had Christmas?

_F._ Yes; isn't it lovely? But I told mamma I knew she got it because she knew I'd got to have one, and she'd got to give me something.

_A._ How mean of you!

_F._ Oh, she didn't mind. She's used to it. Be sure and come in to-morrow.

_A._ Yes, I will. Oh, did I tell you that Tom Jones has invited Sophia Weston to go to the opera Sat.u.r.day night?

_F._ You don't mean it. Has he, really?

_A._ Yes; Ethel Mott told me this morning.

_F._ _Do_ you suppose he is in earnest, after all?

_A._ Oh, there's no telling about him. Frank says they bet about it at the club.

_F._ About him and Sophia?

_A._ Yes; whether he'll propose before Lent.

_F._ How _per_-fectly horrid! Men are the _worst_ creatures. I declare, I think those dreadful clubs ought to be suppressed.

_A._ So do I. They do say the most outrageous things. I don't see how they can sit and listen to them.

_F._ I don't, either.

_A._ And they talk over all the scandals.

_F._ Yes, it is simply diabolical. How perfectly sweet it is to have a brother who will tell you all about it.

_A._ Isn't it? It is almost as good as going myself.

_F._ Will never tells me a single thing (_moving on into the hall_).

Well, be sure you come, and come as early as you can. Good-bye. (_Kisses her._)

_A._ Good-bye. That boa is just as becoming as it can be.

_F._ Do you think so? Clara Martin's makes her look as if she hadn't any neck at all.

_A._ Oh, you can wear anything.

_F._ Thank you, dear. But then you can afford to say so, because you can wear anything yourself. Would you ask Jack about the orange feathers?

_A._ Oh, he wouldn't know. Men never know what girls have on,--except Clarence Key, and he's a perfect man-milliner. Did I tell you what he said to Kate West at the Westons' tea? I'd have scratched his eyes out.

_F._ No; what in the world did he say?

_A._ You won't repeat it? Because I told Kate I wouldn't tell. She was so furious she had to tell somebody.