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56 ARIADNE.once or twice he had her with him at the opera;she was as white as the statues that she worships;she had a quantity of old Greek gold upon her.Iknew thatit was Greek, forIhad seen himbuy itin — Athens. Some onenearme saidit wasHelen risen. But she is not Helen,nothingisless like her; she read me of Helenin those oldsongs of war, in Rome. Ithink she sufferedvery much, because all those people looked so ather: asfor him he only smUed. This thatIteUyou of nowbelongstolast winter. Have patience:Imust tell it my own way." There came then to this city the wickedwitchfrom Rome; shewhom yrou caU a duchess;she sent for him, he went, and when he hadgone once, then he went often. She, in thoserooms with her marbles, was more than everalone. Her window opened on to the gardens,and from my garret windowIcould see. Sometimesshe would come out under the trees; theygrow very thickly, and it is damp there, but shewould sit still under them hour after hour —and he all the while about in the pleasureplaces, or with the Roman woman. Ido not