'Can you take me home at once?' Ortensia asked. 'Or must you go in?'
Stradella saw her look of distress as he took her outstretched hand in both of his.
'I am not wanted, am I?' he asked, looking at young Altieri. 'My wife wishes to go home, you see——'
'I will make your excuses to the Queen,' Don Alberto answered readily. 'My carriage is waiting and shall take you to the palace and come back for me.'
'How kind of you!'
Ortensia thought he was already beginning to fulfil his promise of friendship to her. He had, in fact, brought the couple to the Palazzo Riario in his own carriage, for there were no hackney coaches in Rome in that century, and people who owned no equipage were obliged to have themselves carried in sedan-chairs, from one end of the city to the other if necessary, unless they preferred to ride on mules or donkeys, which was not convenient in full dress.
In five minutes Stradella and his wife were driving rapidly over the cobble-stones towards Ponte Sisto, and Ortensia was telling the astonished musician what had taken place between her and Don Alberto, with all he had told her about Pina, Trombin, and Gambardella.