"Has she been tricked?" "Thousand
devils, no!"
Softly moving over the driveway, Natalie eagerly pleads with Villa
Rocca. Her perfumed hair brushes his cheek. Her eyes gleam like
diamonds, as they sweep past the brilliantly lighted temples of
pleasure. She is Phryne and Aspasia to-night.
Villa Rocca is drunk with the delirium of passion. His mind reels.
"I will do it," he hoarsely murmurs. Arrived at the "porte cochere,"
the count lifts his hat, as madame reenters her home.
There is a fatal glitter in Natalie's eyes, as she enters alone
her robing room.
When madame is seated in the freedom of a wonderful "robe de
chambre," her face is expectant, yet pleasant. Marie has fulfilled
every duty of the eyening.
"You may go, Marie. I am tired. I wish to sleep," remarks the lady,
nonchalantly.
"Will madame pardon me?"
Marie's voice sounds cold and strange. Ah, it has come, then!
Natalie has expected this. What is the plot?
Natalie looks her squarely in the eyes. "Well?" she says, sharply.
"I hope madame will understand that I close my duties here to-night!"
the maid slowly says.
"Indeed?" Madame lifts her eyebrows.
"I would be glad to be permitted to leave the house to-morrow.
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