After dinner he led the Queen to an embroidered throne under a velvet
baldachino in a gorgeous chamber which had been the chapel of the Popes.
Then the ball began. What torrents of light! What a dazzling blaze of
diamonds! What lovely faces and pure white skins! What soft bosoms and
full round forms! What gleams of life and love in a hundred pairs of
beautiful eyes! But there was a lovelier face and form in the mind of
the Baron than any his eyes could see, and excusing himself to the King
on the ground of Rossi's expected arrival, he left the palace.
Fireflies in the dark garden of the Quirinal were emitting drops of
light as the Baron passed through the echoing courts, and the big square
in front, bright with electric light, was silent save for the footfall
of the sentries at the gate.
The Baron walked in the direction of the Piazza Navona. His
self-reproach was becoming poignant. He remembered the threats he had
made, and told himself he had never intended to carry them out. They
were only meant to impress the imagination of the person played upon, as
might happen in any ordinary affair of public life.
The Baron's memory went back to the last state ball before this one, and
he felt some pangs of shame. But the disaster of that night had not been
due to the cold calculation to which he had attributed it. The cause was
simpler and more human--love of a beautiful woman who was slipping away
from him, the girding sense of being bound body and soul to a wife that
was no wife, and the mad intoxication of a moment.
No matter! Roma should not lose by what had happened. He would make it
up to her. Considering her unconventional conduct, it was no little
thing he intended to do, but he would do it, and she would see that
others were capable of sacrifice.
The people were on the Pincio and the streets were quiet. When the Baron
reached the Piazza Navona there was hardly anybody about, and he had
difficulty in finding the house. No one saw him enter, and he met with
nobody on the stairs. So much the better. He was half ashamed.
After he had knocked twice a voice which he did not recognise told him
to come in. When he pushed the door open Roma, in hat and veil, stood
before him, with her back to a bureau. He thought she looked frightened
and ill.
V
"My dear Roma," said the Baron, "I bring you good news. Everything has
turned out well. Nothing could have been managed better, and I come to
congratulate you."