surprise Amy by returning earlier than she expected, and accordingly I
took the first train out, walking up from the station.

The little villa looked quite deserted as I approached. I wondered if
Amy and Kate had gone to the Waddells' without me. I went to the side
door, and hearing voices in the library, I went softly into the back
drawing-room, with the foolish, boyish thought that I would walk in
suddenly and interrupt an exchange of confidences which I should pretend
to have overheard. I do not know what impelled me to play such an
antiquated, worn-out trick; however, I was just advancing into the room
through the wide-open but curtained doorway, when a chance sentence
made me pause, struck as by a blow in the face. Through an interstice,
left by an ill-adjusted fold of the portière, I had a glimpse of the
room. My betrothed, in one of her favorite white negligées, was
stretched on the Turkish divan by the open fireplace, filled now with an
enormous bowl of flowers. Her arms were raised above her head, and there
was an enigmatic smile on her lips; her face had the sleepy wisdom of
the Sphinx. Kate was crouched on the floor by her side, listening
eagerly. Now and then she would say: "Oh! how clever you were!" "So he
never guessed." "Yes, yes, and then, what did he say then?" urging her
on with a feverish greed for details, which my affianced did not disdain
to impart lazily, the faint, contemptuous smile always upon the pink
lips I had not ventured to kiss with ardor.

I did not know that I was listening, as I stood there, panting for
breath, my hand clutched against my throat, lest I should groan in my
agony. Phrase by phrase, I heard the whole dreadful story, told,
without the shadow of regret or repentance, by the woman in whom I
believed as I believed in Heaven, told with cynical laughter instead,
and impatient contempt of the innocence, sullied years ago by