"I saw him once at Anzio; he was riding along the shore got up entirely in white; white coat, white hat, white gloves, on a white horse——"
"White gloves on a horse?" queried Massimo, laughing foolishly.
Regina asked the Princess her opinion of the author in question, and the lady replied—
"To tell the truth, I'm not one of his blind admirers; but his prose is certainly lovely—bewitching, like music——"
"True," said Antonio; "but one very quickly forgets what he says."
"That's just my impression," said Regina; "it's music without any echo."
Massimo shook his head; his long hair stood on end like that of an infuriated baby.
"People were coming down to bathe," continued Sor Mario, "and they stared at him and laughed. Some were in hopes the poet would tumble off his white horse——"
About nine, while Arduina was pouring out coffee, the Princess's lady companion arrived; a queer-looking little creature with dark, malignant countenance, a long, pointed chin, and minute, glittering eyes. Small, shrivelled, dressed in grey, this curious person seemed half-animal to Regina, a kind of human rodent. And, really, no sooner had she entered than the room was pervaded and animated by what seemed the scratching and running about of a rat; little cries and exclamations; hand-claspings and kisses which suggested bites, questions, remarks, and, above all, looks which seemed to Regina inquisitive, anxious, mocking, and impudent.
"Take a cup of coffee if you care for it, Marianna," said Arduina, while the companion felt the Princess's forehead with both her hands.