Then he went into his bedroom and fetched a pair of scissors, and
proceeded to kneel on the floor and pare away the pinked-out black
cloth which came beyond the skin. It looked banal, and he knew she
would not like that.

Oh! he was awaking! this beautiful young Paul.

He had scarcely finished when there was a tap at the door, and Dmitry
appeared with a note. The thin, remembered paper thrilled him, and he
took it from the servant's hand.

"Paul--I am in the devil's mood to-day. About 5 o'clock come to me by
the terrace steps."

That was all--there was no date or signature. But Paul's heart beat
in his throat with joy.

"I want the skin to go to Madame," he said. "Have you any means of
conveying it to her without the whole world seeing it go?"

The stately servant bowed. "If the Excellency would help him to fold
it up," he said, "he would take it now to his own room, and from
thence to the _appartement numero 3_."

It is not a very easy thing to fold up a huge tiger-skin into a brown
paper parcel tied with string. But it was accomplished somehow and
Dmitry disappeared noiselessly with it and an answer to the note:

"I will be there, sweet lady.