He bent upon her beautiful, grave eyes which reflected the light of the grate.

But she reassured him.
"I do not know whether any one talks about me.

And what do I care?
Nothing matters." He left her.

He was going to dine at the club, where a friend was waiting for him.

She followed him with her eyes, with peaceful sympathy.
Then she began again to read in the ashes.
She saw in them the days of her childhood; the castle wherein she had passed the sweet, sad summers; the dark and humid park; the pond where slept the green water; the marble nymphs under the chestnut-trees, and the bench on which she had wept and desired death.