Passion's evil

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Midnight sounded, and the salons of the Comtesse Gamiani still shone in a flood of light. The rounds and quadrilles continued animatedly, to the intoxicating sounds of the orchestra. The toilettes were marvelous, the jewels sparkled.

Gracious, assiduous, the mistress of the ban seemed to enjoy the success of her carefully planned fete, announced at great expense. She was observed to smile agreeably to, all the flattering words, to the customary phrases that each one prodigally used in payment for his presence.

Withdrawn in my habitual role of observer, I had already made more. than one remark which dispensed with my conversation to the Comtesse Gamiani the merit she was supposed to posses. I had quickly judged her, as it woman of the world, but it still remained for me to dissect her moral being, to carry the scalpel into the regions of her heart; and I know not what strange and unknown emotion withheld and stopped me in my examination. I felt an infinite pain to analyze the back, ground of this woman's existence, whose conduct nothing explained. Still young, and with an immense fortune, pretty in the eyes of a great number, this woman without relatives, without intimates, was in some way individually in the world. Alone, she spent an existence capable in all appearance of supporting more than one sharer.

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