The small iron door closed with a rusty clang, and the friends began to descend the steep way that leads down from the Porta San Pancrazio to the Via Garibaldi.
"Why did you say that to the nun?" asked Guido.
"Are you past praying for?" enquired Lamberti, with a careless and good-natured laugh.
"It is not like you," said Guido.
"I do not pretend to be more consistent than other people, you know. Are you going directly to the Princess's?"
"No. I must go home first. The old lady would never forgive me if I went to see her without a silk hat in my hand."
"Then I suppose I must dress, too," said Lamberti. "I will leave you at your door, and drive home, and we can meet at your aunt's."
"Very well."
They walked down the street and found a cab, scarcely speaking again until they parted at Guido's door.
He lived alone in a quiet apartment of the Palazzo Farnese, overlooking the Via Giulia and the river beyond. The afternoon sun was still streaming through the open windows of his sitting room, and the warm breeze came with it.