Then the three innocents abroad wandered aimlessly through the narrow streets, saw the statue of the great electrician, Volta, the ruined battlements, the church of St. Abbondio, and other objects of interest. Afterwards they had some refreshment at a café, the proprietors of which Mrs. Trubbles, who was a spendthrift in London but a miser abroad, denounced as robbers, and then were fortunate enough to catch a steamer just starting for Cernobbio.
"Oh dear! dear!" moaned Mrs. Trubbles, with a weary sigh, as she sat down in a comfortable seat--"what with their language, their lies, and their nobby-stone streets, I'm quite worn out."
"I think one visit is quite enough for Como," said Victoria, as the town receded into the far distance. "When do we leave this place, Mrs. Trubbles?"
"In a week, dear," murmured the lady in a sleepy tone. "My husband will get all his politics settled by that time, I hope."
"I hope so, too. I'm tired of the lakes."
"Don't say that," said Otterburn, reproachfully; "I'll be sorry to leave the Villa Medici."
"You needn't. We can go; you can stay."
"I don't want to stay if you go."
Clearly this obtuse young man was irrepressible, and as he was now getting on dangerous ground again, Victoria deftly turned the conversation.
"I suppose we'll see you and Mr. Gartney at Rome?"