devil-may-care, rollicking boyishness which made him so adored came over
him, and he laughed up at them, and waved his hand: and Zara's rage
turned to wild excitement, too. There would be the walk across the hall
of sixty paces, and then he would kiss her. What would it be like? In
those sixty paces her face grew more purely white, while he came to the
resolve that for this one second he would yield to temptation and not
only brush her forehead with his lips, as had been his intention, but
for once--just for this once--he would kiss her mouth. He was past
caring about the footmen seeing. It was his only chance.

So when they came to the threshold of the big, double doors he bent down
and drew her to him, and gave her the golden key. And then he pressed
his warm, young, passionate lips to hers. Oh! the mad joy of it! And
even if it were only from duty and to play the game, she had not
resisted him as upon that other occasion. He felt suddenly, absolutely
intoxicated, as he had done on the wedding night. Why, why must this
ghastly barrier be between them? Was there nothing to be done? Then he
looked at his bride as they advanced to the table, and he saw that she
was so deadly white that he thought she was going to faint. For
intoxication, affects people in different ways; for her, the kiss had
seemed the sweetness of death.

"Give her ladyship some champagne immediately," he ordered the butler,
and, still with shining eyes, he looked at her, and said gently, "for
we must drink our own healths."

But Zara never raised her lids, only he saw that her little nostrils
were quivering, and by the rise and fall of her beautiful bosom he knew
that her heart must be beating as madly as was his own--and a wild
triumph filled him. Whatever the emotion she was experiencing, whether