"Anna, Anna," said the calm voice of her husband.
"What do you want?" She had to lean on a chair, to keep from falling; her voice was dull.
"Was there no performance? Or were you ill?"
"There was no performance."
"Have you just returned?"
"Yes, just returned." But the lie made her blush.
"And your Highness is invisible? I should like to pay your Highness my respects."
"No," she answered, with a choking voice.
"Good-bye, love," he called.
"Oh, infamous, infamous!" she cried.