nick lansing had walked out a long way into the campagna. hishours were seldom his own, for both mr. and mrs. hicks werebecoming more and more addicted to sudden and somewhat imperiousdemands upon his time; but on this occasion he had simplyslipped away after luncheon, and taking the tram to the portasalaria, had wandered on thence in the direction of the pontenomentano.

he wanted to get away and think; but now that he had done it thebusiness proved as unfruitful as everything he had put his handto since he had left venice. think--think about what? hisfuture seemed to him a negligible matter since he had received,two months earlier, the few lines in which susy had asked himfor her freedom.

the letter had been a shock--though he had fancied himself soprepared for it--yet it had also, in another sense, been arelief, since, now that at last circumstances compelled him towrite to her, they also told him what to say. and he had said itas briefly and simply as possible, telling her that he would putno obstacle in the way of her release, that he held himself ather lawyer's disposal to answer any further communication--andthat he would never forget their days together, or cease tobless her for them.

that was all. he gave his roman banker's address, and waitedfor another letter; but none came. probably the "formalities,"whatever they were, took longer than he had supposed; and beingin no haste to recover his own liberty, he did not try to learnthe cause of the delay. from that moment, however, heconsidered himself virtually free, and ceased, by the sametoken, to take any interest in his own future. his life seemedas flat as a convalescent's first days after the fever hasdropped.

the only thing he was sure of was that he was not going toremain in the hickses' employ: when they left rome for centralasia he had no intention of accompanying them. the part of mr.

buttles' successor was becoming daily more intolerable to him,for the very reasons that had probably made it most gratifyingto mr. buttles. to be treated by mr. and mrs. hicks as a paidoracle, a paraded and petted piece of property, was a good dealmore distasteful than he could have imagined any relation withthese kindly people could be. and since their aspirations hadbecome frankly social he found his task, if easier, yet far lesscongenial than during his first months with them. he preferredpatiently explaining to mrs. hicks, for the hundredth time, thatsassanian and saracenic were not interchangeable terms, tounravelling for her the genealogies of her titled guests, andreminding her, when she "seated" her dinner-parties, that dukesranked higher than princes. no--the job was decidedlyintolerable; and he would have to look out for another means ofearning his living. but that was not what he had really gotaway to think about. he knew he should never starve; he hadeven begun to believe again in his book. what he wanted tothink of was susy--or rather, it was susy that he could not helpthinking of, on whatever train of thought he set out.

again and again he fancied he had established a truce with thepast: had come to terms--the terms of defeat and failure withthat bright enemy called happiness. and, in truth, he hadreached the point of definitely knowing that he could neverreturn to the kind of life that he and susy had embarked on. ithad been the tragedy, of their relation that loving her rousedin him ideals she could never satisfy. he had fallen in lovewith her because she was, like himself, amused, unprejudiced anddisenchanted; and he could not go on loving her unless sheceased to be all these things. from that circle there was noissue, and in it he desperately revolved.

if he had not heard such persistent rumours of her re-marriageto lord altringham he might have tried to see her again; but,aware of the danger and the hopelessness of a meeting, he was,on the whole, glad to have a reason for avoiding it. such, atleast, he honestly supposed to be his state of mind until hefound himself, as on this occasion, free to follow out histhought to its end. that end, invariably, was susy; not thebundle of qualities and defects into which his critical spirithad tried to sort her out, but the soft blur of identity, ofpersonality, of eyes, hair, mouth, laugh, tricks of speech andgesture, that were all so solely and profoundly her own, and yetso mysteriously independent of what she might do, say, think, incrucial circumstances. he remembered her once saying to him:

"after all, you were right when you wanted me to be yourmistress," and the indignant stare of incredulity with which hehad answered her. yet in these hours it was the palpable imageof her that clung closest, till, as invariably happened, hisvision came full circle, and feeling her on his breast he wantedher also in his soul.

well--such all-encompassing loves were the rarest of humanexperiences; he smiled at his presumption in wanting no other.

wearily he turned, and tramped homeward through the wintertwilight ....

at the door of the hotel he ran across the prince of teutoburg'saide-de-camp. they had not met for some days, and nick had avague feeling that if the prince's matrimonial designs tookdefinite shape he himself was not likely, after all, to be theirchosen exponent. he had surprised, now and then, a certaindistrustful coldness under the princess mother's cordial glance,and had concluded that she perhaps suspected him of being anobstacle to her son's aspirations. he had no idea of playingthat part, but was not sorry to appear to; for he was sincerelyattached to coral hicks, and hoped for her a more human fatethan that of becoming prince anastasius's consort.

this evening, however, he was struck by the beaming alacrity ofthe aide-de-camp's greeting. whatever cloud had hung betweenthem had lifted: the teutoburg clan, for one reason or another,no longer feared or distrusted him. the change was conveyed ina mere hand-pressure, a brief exchange of words, for the aide-de-camp was hastening after a well-known dowager of the oldroman world, whom he helped into a large coronetted broughamwhich looked as if it had been extracted, for some ceremonialpurpose, from a museum of historic vehicles. and in an instantit flashed on lansing that this lady had been the person chosento lay the prince's offer at miss hicks's feet.

the discovery piqued him; and instead of making straight for hisown room he went up to mrs. hicks's drawing-room.

the room was empty, but traces of elaborate tea pervaded it, andan immense bouquet of stiff roses lay on the centre table. ashe turned away, eldorada tooker, flushed and tear-stained,abruptly entered.

"oh, mr. lansing--we were looking everywhere for you.""looking for me?""yes. coral especially ... she wants to see you. she wants youto come to her own sitting-room."she led him across the ante-chamber and down the passage to theseparate suite which miss hicks inhabited. on the thresholdeldorada gasped out emotionally: "you'll find her lookinglovely--" and jerked away with a sob as he entered.

coral hicks was never lovely: but she certainly lookedunusually handsome. perhaps it was the long dress of blackvelvet which, outlined against a shaded lamp, made her strongbuild seem slenderer, or perhaps the slight flush on her duskycheek: a bloom of womanhood hung upon her which she made noeffort to dissemble. indeed, it was one of her originalitiesthat she always gravely and courageously revealed the utmost ofwhatever mood possessed her.

"how splendid you look!" he said, smiling at her.

she threw her head back and gazed him straight in the eyes.

"that's going to be my future job.""to look splendid?""yes.""and wear a crown?""and wear a crown ...."they continued to consider each other without speaking. nick'sheart contracted with pity and perplexity.

"oh, coral--it's not decided?"she scrutinized him for a last penetrating moment; then shelooked away. "i'm never long deciding."he hesitated, choking with contradictory impulses, and afraid toformulate any, lest they should either mislead or pain her.

"why didn't you tell me?" he questioned lamely; and instantlyperceived his blunder.

she sat down, and looked up at him under brooding lashes--had heever noticed the thickness of her lashes before?

"would it have made any difference if i had told you?""any difference--?""sit down by me," she commanded. "i want to talk to you. youcan say now whatever you might have said sooner. i'm notmarried yet: i'm still free.""you haven't given your answer?""it doesn't matter if i have."the retort frightened him with the glimpse of what she stillexpected of him, and what he was still so unable to give.

"that means you've said yes?" he pursued, to gain time.

"yes or no--it doesn't matter. i had to say something. what iwant is your advice.""at the eleventh hour?""or the twelfth." she paused. "what shall i do?" shequestioned, with a sudden accent of helplessness.

he looked at her as helplessly. he could not say: "askyourself--ask your parents." her next word would sweep awaysuch frail hypocrisies. her "what shall i do?" meant "what areyou going to do?" and he knew it, and knew that she knew it.

"i'm a bad person to give any one matrimonial advice," he began,with a strained smile; "but i had such a different vision foryou.""what kind of a vision?" she was merciless.

"merely what people call happiness, dear.""'people call'--you see you don't believe in it yourself! well,neither do i--in that form, at any rate. "he considered. "i believe in trying for it--even if the trying'sthe best of it.""well, i've tried, and failed. and i'm twenty-two, and i neverwas young. i suppose i haven't enough imagination." she drew adeep breath. "now i want something different." she appeared tosearch for the word. "i want to be--prominent," she declared.

"prominent?"she reddened swarthily. "oh, you smile--you think it'sridiculous: it doesn't seem worth while to you. that's becauseyou've always had all those things. but i haven't. i know whatfather pushed up from, and i want to push up as high again--higher. no, i haven't got much imagination. i've always likedfacts. and i find i shall like the fact of being a princess--choosing the people i associate with, and being up above allthese european grandees that father and mother bow down to,though they think they despise them. you can be up above thesepeople by just being yourself; you know how. but i need aplatform--a sky-scraper. father and mother slaved to give me myeducation. they thought education was the important thing; but,since we've all three of us got mediocre minds, it has justlanded us among mediocre people. don't you suppose i seethrough all the sham science and sham art and sham everythingwe're surrounded with? that's why i want to buy a place at thevery top, where i shall be powerful enough to get about me thepeople i want, the big people, the right people, and to helpthem i want to promote culture, like those renaissance womenyou're always talking about. i want to do it for apex city; doyou understand? and for father and mother too. i want allthose titles carved on my tombstone. they're facts, anyhow!

don't laugh at me ...." she broke off with one of her clumsysmiles, and moved away from him to the other end of the room.

he sat looking at her with a curious feeling of admiration. herharsh positivism was like a tonic to his disenchanted mood, andhe thought: "what a pity!"aloud he said: "i don't feel like laughing at you. you're agreat woman.""then i shall be a great princess.""oh--but you might have been something so much greater!"her face flamed again. "don't say that!"he stood up involuntarily, and drew near her.

"why not?""because you're the only man with whom i can imagine the otherkind of greatness."it moved him--moved him unexpectedly. he got as far as sayingto himself: "good god, if she were not so hideously rich--" andthen of yielding for a moment to the persuasive vision of allthat he and she might do with those very riches which hedreaded. after all, there was nothing mean in her ideals theywere hard and material, in keeping with her primitive andmassive person; but they had a certain grim nobility. and whenshe spoke of "the other kind of greatness" he knew that sheunderstood what she was talking of, and was not merely sayingsomething to draw him on, to get him to commit himself. therewas not a drop of guile in her, except that which her veryhonesty distilled.

"the other kind of greatness?" he repeated.

"well, isn't that what you said happiness was? i wanted to behappy ... but one can't choose."he went up to her. "no, one can't choose. and how can anyonegive you happiness who hasn't got it himself?" he took herhands, feeling how large, muscular and voluntary they were, evenas they melted in his palms.

"my poor coral, of what use can i ever be to you? what you needis to be loved."she drew back and gave him one of her straight strong glances:

"no," she said gallantly, "but just to love."