He sent it up.
A manservant at last came to where he was waiting in the hall, led him along various passages and ushered him in to where Julius was sitting.
His first glance showed Lafcadio a copy of the Corriere della Sera, which had been thrown down in a corner of the room. On a table in the middle a large, uncorked bottle of eau-de-Cologne was exhaling its powerful perfume. Julius held out his arms.
“Lafcadio! My dear fellow!... How very glad I am to see you!”
His ruffled hair waved in agitated fashion on his temples; he seemed strangely excited; in one hand he held a black spotted handkerchief, with which he fanned himself.
“You are certainly one of the persons I least expected to see, but the one in the world I was most wanting to talk to this evening.... Was it Madame Carola who told you I was here?”
“What an odd question!”
“Why! as I’ve just met her.... I’m not sure, though, that she saw me.”
“Carola! Is she in Rome?”
“Didn’t you know?”