She held out her gauntleted hand with a gesture of superb indifference, and then, as her dark glance rested for the first time upon Dino, she raised her perfect eyebrows with a slight expression of wonder. She had expected to see Gasparo's soldier servant. She turned her face away from him.
'Madame Helwige!'
A little old woman dressed in black, who had been quietly seated in a sunny corner, reading a Tauchnitz novel under the shade of a large parasol, rose quickly and came forward at this call.
'The Signora Contessa desires——'
'My purse. Yes. I want some money,' the young woman said impatiently. She made no secret of the letter she had received, holding it by one corner, and tapping the top railing with it to the measure of an inaudible tune.
'Then, if I can do nothing more for you, I will go. I have the honour of wishing you good morning,' added Dino quietly, turning away.
'Stop a moment. This lady will give you something for your trouble. Or—stop! Who are you? What is your name?'
'Bernardino de Rossi.'
'Ah. The Marchese Gasparo's foster-brother. That explains. I have heard him mention you: he says you are one of the discontented people,—a radical, a red republican, que sais je, moi? Is it true?' she asked calmly, fixing her large disdainful eyes upon the young man's face.
He bowed gravely. 'Since the Signora Contessa does me the honour to inquire. I am a radical; that is my belief.'