THE blossom of the lilac-tree gave a pulp-like sound as it thwacked against her window, and curiously named Stephanie Miniati smiled to herself as she turned in her bed and, placing a hand on her rounded breast, closed her eyes in order that she might see Orosdi. For not only did Orosdi dwell in her heart, but his big, black eyes burned in her brain and lit it, and his sinewy hands were ever about her throat in love-cruelty. She closed her eyes and, in imagination, summoned him to her chamber. He came: not hurriedly, as an anxious lover moves, but with long, lazy strides, his baby-face all smiles, his selfish, rounded chin thrust a little forward. He stood by her side and then, in imagination, she made him bend down suddenly and kiss her shoulder....

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