The curtain fallen, I would pass onward with
my poor individual life, which was now attenuated of much of its
proper substance, and diffused among many alien interests.
Meanwhile, Zenobia and her companion had retreated from the window.
Then followed an interval, during which I directed my eves towards
the figure in the boudoir. Most certainly it was Priscilla, although
dressed with a novel and fanciful elegance. The vague perception of
it, as viewed so far off, impressed me as if she had suddenly passed
out of a chrysalis state and put forth wings. Her hands were not now
in motion. She had dropt her work, and sat with her head thrown back,
in the same attitude that I had seen several times before, when she
seemed to be listening to an imperfectly distinguished sound.
Again the two figures in the drawing-room became visible. They were
now a little withdrawn from the window, face to face, and, as I could
see by Zenobia's emphatic gestures, were discussing some subject in
which she, at least, felt a passionate concern. By and by she broke
away, and vanished beyond my ken. Westervelt approached the window,
and leaned his forehead against a pane of glass, displaying the sort
of smile on his handsome features which, when I before met him, had
let me into the secret of his gold-bordered teeth. Every human being,
when given over to the Devil, is sure to have the wizard mark upon
him, in one form or another. I fancied that this smile, with its
peculiar revelation, was the Devil's signet on the Professor.
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