recognize that hand—"
But he took it, and drew gently from it a ring, chosen from the others by chance—an opal, set in dull gold, which had come from Jane Monvel, the actress. Reutler slipped it quickly on his own ring-finger; hut it was too small for him after the first joint, and stopped.
Paul began speaking again—still fancying that he was talking to Geneviève, trying to calm her nervous crisis—his voice warming as he spoke; decidedly Reutler had not appeared to him in the vision of the ball, to see the disorder of the unlucky victim.
"I—have never—felt as much love for you," Paul was murmuring to Jane.
"Oh, my God," tried Reutler, "trembling in every limb now, "is that the sign? Must I kill him? Must I spare him? Must I try to go back, to retreat? Ah, Beloved!—Beloved!" he repeated, as if echoing his brother's voice.
Paul-Eric did not awaken.
The elder brother rose now. Softly he went into the boudoir with its huge mirrors, which had always been Paul's dressing-room? even when he was a little fellow; and where still were standing two costly playthings of his infancy, ironical phantoms of his youngest life; two huge mannikin figures, in their gaudy costumes. One was a Punch, half in rose and half in yellow; the other a tall diver, the gloomy eyes in his water-tight helmet staring out like those of a corpse into space. Reutler bent down, and detached from the diver's side a small hatchet that hung'there. It was the same hatchet that Paul-Eric had used when he was breaking the pearl shirt-stud.
"I—I too," said Reutler, "am going to know now how one crushes a pearl—a fine pearl! I shall strike him on the temple—only one blow it must be—so that he shall not suffer. I shall shut all the doors tight—I will give my orders—nobody will come up to see anything, until my crime shall have met with its—recompense. Hurrah for the Shades—! We shall meet again, if our Wills are really our only vital forces—our all! Yes—now to set about it—it is simple, after all—and I wish it."
He returned to Paul's bedroom.
The Byzantine Princess was sitting up there, on her bed, awake now. But she was so tired that she could not unclasp the metal claws of her girdle.
"Reutler—what a torment"—said Paul, yawning, in an ac-— 334 —
