The end came at midnight. Dr. E---- had warned the general that it would be terrible; but it was in vain that they tried to persuade Zinka to leave the room. The whole night through she knelt by the dying man's bed in her tumbled white dressing-gown--praying.

At about five in the morning his moaning ceased. Was all over? No, he spoke again; a strange, far-away look, peculiar to the dying, came into his eyes. "Do not cry, little one--it will all come right...." and then he felt about with his hands as if he were seeking for something--for some idea that had escaped him. He gazed at his sister. "Go to bed, Zini--I am better ... sleepy ... Constanti...." He turned his head to the wall and breathed deeply. He had started on his journey.

The general closed his eyes and drew Zinka away. Outside in the corridor stood a crushed and miserable man--it was Sempaly. Pale, wretched, and restless, he had stolen into the palazetto, and as he stood aside his hands trembled, his eyes were haggard. She did not shrink from him as she went by--she did not see him!

A glorious morning shone on the little garden-court. In a darkly-shady corner a swarm of blue butterflies were fluttering over the grass like atoms fallen from the sky. It was the corner in which the Amazon stood.

CHAPTER VII.

Thanks to Siegburg's always judicious indiscretion all Rome knew ere long that Prince Sempaly had consented to Zinka's marriage with his brother the evening before the duel, and at the same time it heard of Sterzl's burst of anger and its fearful expiation. Princess Vulpini's unwavering friendship, which during these few days she took every opportunity of displaying, silenced evil tongues and saved Zinka's good name. Now, indeed, there was a general and powerful revulsion of feeling in Sterzl's favor. It suddenly became absurd, petty, in the very worst taste, to doubt Zinka--Zinka and Cecil had always been exceptional natures....

Sterzl had expressed a wish to be buried at home; the body was embalmed and laid in a large empty room, where, once upon a time, the baroness had wanted to give a ball. There were flowers against the wall, and on the floor. The bier was covered with them; it was a complete Roman Infiorata, The windows were darkened with hangings and the dim ruddy light of dozens of wax-tapers filled the room. Countess Ilsenbergh and the Jatinskys came to this lying in state; distinguished company, in ceremonial black, crowded round the coffin. Never had the baroness had so full a 'day' and her sentimental graces showed that, even under these grim circumstances, she felt this as a satisfaction. She stood by the bier in flowing robes loaded with crape, a black-bordered handkerchief in her hand, and a tear on each cheek, and--received her visitors. They pressed her hand and made sympathetic speeches and she murmured feebly: "You are so good--it is so comforting."

Having spoken to the mother, they turned to look for the sister; every one longed to express, or at least to show, their sincere sympathy for her dreadful sorrow. But she was not in the crowd--not to be seen, till a lady whispered: "There she is," and in a dark recess. Princess Vulpini was discovered with a quivering, sobbing creature, as pale as death and drowned in tears; but no one ventured to intrude on her grief No one but Nini, who looked almost as miserable as Zinka herself, and who went up to her, and put her arms round her, and kissed her.

Next day mass was performed in the chapel of San-Marco, adjoining the embassy, and a quartette of voices sang the same pathetic allegretto from the seventh symphony that had been played, hardly three months since, for the 'Lady Jane Grey' tableau.

A week later the Sterzls quitted Rome. Up to the very last the baroness was receiving visits of condolence, and to the very last she repeated her monotonous formula of lament: