Just as soon as she could possibly manage it Nina left the Dalgries, and alone with her maid hied herself to that stupidest of all English resorts—Bath.
There she took a flat and secured two servants, and kept herself so secluded that the story went abroad that the blind beggar in the famous poem was a beauty beside her.
Some said that she was sightless and some that she had been scarred beyond all recognition; but nobody really knew because nobody had really seen her.
Nobody, that is to say, except her surgeon and his assistant, and Delphine, the French maid.
Nina chose Bath because of this wonderful surgeon, Dr. Pottow, who was connected with the chief hospital there, and knew more about the skin and cutaneous affections than any man in England.
He promised to restore her if restoration were possible, but he was very reticent about the method until his success was assured. Then he told her that it had been necessary to resort to the grafting of new and healthy skin to take the place of that which had been scorched practically to a cinder.
"But where did you get it?" Nina asked, deeply interested. She knew that it had not been taken from her and transplanted.
"I was fortunate enough to find a volunteer," answered the surgeon.
"I suppose she required some fabulous price," Nina rejoined. "But if it has given me back an unmarred countenance I shall be only too glad to pay."
"There is nothing to pay," Dr. Pottow told her. "He gave it gratuitously, and was glad to."