strength equal to their own? If I had been brought up like this siren,
our weapons at least might have been equal in the hour of struggle."

"But I am not at home!" The sharp, harsh words, though spoken in an
undertone in the adjoining boudoir, were heard by Augustine, and her
heart beat violently.

"The lady is in there," replied the maid.

"You are an idiot! Show her in," replied the Duchess, whose voice was
sweeter, and had assumed the dulcet tones of politeness. She evidently
now meant to be heard.

Augustine shyly entered the room. At the end of the dainty boudoir she
saw the Duchess lounging luxuriously on an ottoman covered with brown
velvet and placed in the centre of a sort of apse outlined by soft
folds of white muslin over a yellow lining. Ornaments of gilt bronze,
arranged with exquisite taste, enhanced this sort of dais, under which
the Duchess reclined like a Greek statue. The dark hue of the velvet
gave relief to every fascinating charm. A subdued light, friendly to
her beauty, fell like a reflection rather than a direct illumination.
A few rare flowers raised their perfumed heads from costly Sevres
vases. At the moment when this picture was presented to Augustine's
astonished eyes, she was approaching so noiselessly that she caught a
glance from those of the enchantress. This look seemed to say to some
one whom Augustine did not at first perceive, "Stay; you will see a
pretty woman, and make her visit seem less of a bore."

On seeing Augustine, the Duchess rose and made her sit down by her.