and cold, and showed his disdain of her, and that even though she had
made up her mind to be gentle and try to win him back with friendship,
it was almost impossible. She looked upon his increased, icy contempt of
her at dinner as a protest at her outburst of tears during the day.

So the meal was got through, and the moment the coffee was brought he
gulped it down, and then rose: he could not stand being alone with her
for a moment.

She was looking so beautiful, and so meek, and so tragic, he could not
contain the mixed emotions he felt. He only knew if he had to bear them
another minute he should go mad. So, hardly with sufficient politeness
he said:

"I have some important documents to look over; I will wish you good
night." And he hurried her from the room and went on to his own
sitting-room in the other part of the house. And Zara, quite crushed
with her anxiety and sorrow about Mirko, and passionately unhappy at
Tristram's treatment of her, once more returned to her lonely room. And
here she dismissed her maid, and remained looking out on the night. The
mist had gone and some pure, fair stars shone out.

Was that where _Maman_ was--up there? And was Mirko going to her soon,
away out of this cruel world of sorrow and pain? As he had once said,
surely there, there would be room for them both.

But Zara was no morbidly sentimental person, the strong blood ran in her
veins, and she knew she must face her life and be true to herself,
whatever else might betide. So after a while the night airs soothed her,
and she said her prayers and went to bed.