Andrea, with a bow, offered his arm to Elena and she looked at him without smiling as she slowly laid her hand on his arm.

Her last words were gaily and lightly spoken, but her gaze was so grave and profound that the young man felt it sink into his very soul.
'Are you going to the French Embassy to-morrow evening ?' she asked him.
'Are you ?' Andrea asked in return.
'I am.' 'So am I.' They smiled at one another like two lovers.
'Sit down,' she added as she sank into a seat.
The seat was far from the fire, with its back to the curve of a grand piano which was partially draped in some rich stuff.

At one end of the divan, a tall bronze crane held in his beak a tray hanging by three chains like one side of a pair of scales, and on it lay a new book and a little Japanese scimitar--a _waki-gashi_--the scabbard and hilt encrusted with silver chrysanthemums.
Elena took up the book, which was only half cut, read the title, and then replaced it on the tray which swung to and fro.

The scimitar fell to the ground.

As both she and Andrea stooped to pick it up, their hands met.