And she pointed to a great chair of Venetian workmanship and wonderful
old velvet which was new to his view.

"I bought that chair in the town this morning at the curiosity shop on
the top of Weggisstrasse, which long ago was the home of the Venetian
envoy here--and you bought me the tiger, Paul. Ah! that was good. My
beautiful tiger!" And she gave a movement like a snake, of joy to feel
its fur under her, while she stretched out her hands and caressed the
creature where the hair turned white and black at the side, and was
deep and soft.

"Beautiful one! beautiful one!" she purred. "And I know all your
feelings and your passions, and now I have got your skin--for the joy
of my skin!" And she quivered again with the movements of a snake.

It is not difficult to imagine that Paul felt far from calm during
this scene--indeed he was obliged to hold on to his great chair to
prevent himself from seizing her in his arms.

"I'm--I'm so glad you like him," he said in a choked voice. "I thought
probably you would. And your own was not worthy of you. I found this
by chance. And oh! good God! if you knew how you are making me
feel--lying there wasting your caresses upon it!"

She tossed the scarlet rose over to him; it hit his mouth.

"I am not wasting them," she said, the innocence of a kitten in her
strange eyes--their colour impossible to define to-day. "Indeed not,
Paul! He was my lover in another life--perhaps--who knows?"