“My own.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Since yesterday.”
“Are you stopping long in Florence?”
“As long as you like.”
“Are you married?”
“No.”
“Cursed be that supper! What an event! You must leave me now, I have to go on. Good-bye till seven o’clock to-morrow.”
She had said eight at first, but an hour sooner was no harm. I returned to the theatre, and recollected that I had neither asked her name or address, but I could find out all that easily. She was playing Mandane, and her singing and acting were admirable. I asked a well-dressed young man beside me what that admirable actress’s name was.
“You have only come to Florence to-day, sir?”