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118 he heard related to a party, but to which he referred, however indefinitely, his seizure in Moldavia. She scarcely looked at, rarely addressed him; in nothing, save her personal loveliness, could he recognise the woman with whom he had floated through the azore air of her sea-temple before the sun had set. It was late when they rose from the table; cards were begun, while the windows stood open to the midnight, where the southern moon flooded the Mediterranean. Idalia threw herself into the hazard with the eagerness of a gamester; she played with the utmost recklessness, a hectic excitement shone in her eyes, the insouciant defiance of her wit rose with the risks of chance; she staked heavy sums, lost them, and only played the more eagerly still. Impair her charm even this insatiate passion could not do, distasteful though it be in women, and even abhorrent in women who are in their youth; as seductive she was, but there were danger, levity, heartlessness in the charm. She was now at her worst. Once she glanced at the solitary form of Erceldoune standing out against the flood of moonlight; his face was pale and very grave, while his eyes had a pathetic wonder, rebuke, and pain in them;—she never looked at him again. The hours went on,