BY ORDER OF THE CZAR. 227
your children about you, and you are a great painter, you will think of me as kindly as you can ; and one day in that future you shall, if it interest you, know my life all through ; and then you will forgive and pity me."
" As I do now," said Philip tenderly, " as I do now."
Her confession had done its work. She knew it would. She had reckoned up the passionate poetical nature of the young fellow quite truly. There is one sin which not the most romantic lover can overlook ; one crime which love cannot condone in the object of its wor- ship. But Philip was in a miserable state of mind ; and in his misery he had the audacity to think of Dolly Norcott for the first time since he had encountered the countess at Charing Cross so selfish, thoughtless, ungrateful is it possible for the heart of man to be. And as he thought of her, he wished the woman before him was as good, and virtuous, and truly lovable a piece of ingratitude which only a master in the analysis of the psychological evolution of love and passion can understand or excuse.
" Shall we meet again in Paris ? " Philip asked, as the train slowed up for Dover.
" Not by appointment," she answered, " and it would be best that we should never meet again."
" I do not know what to think of you," he said.
" Do not think of me," she replied.
" I will not believe that you have told me the truth j will you not give me a rendezvous ? "
" Not now ; at some other time I will."
" You will ? "
"Yes."
"When?"
" I do not know. You may hear of me at 20, Rue de Bach ; but do not seek to find me ; wait until I write to you or send a message to you. I know where to address you."
