"On the Stock Exchange? What does that mean?"
"What it means? I'll explain some time. But—well, really, that woman is becoming a plague!"
"But if she pays you?" said Regina; "and are you good at speculating?"
"I only wish I had the opportunity!" he exclaimed, tossing his hat to the sofa; "I wish I had a little of Madame's superfluous money! But this isn't a case of speculating. I'm to study the state of the money-market and audit the operations carried out by Cavaliere R—— on the Princess's account; take note of the details of daily transactions; get information from the brokers; in short, exercise rigorous control over all the fellow does."
"But," insisted Regina, "she'll pay you well, won't she?"
"Beg pardon?" he said, mimicking the Princess.
"How much will she pay you?" shouted Regina.
"A hundred lire or so. She's a skinflint, you know."
"Supper's on the table, Signora," announced the servant with her accustomed elegant decorum.
During the meal Antonio expounded the operations on 'Change, and other financial matters, talking with a certain enthusiasm. She appeared interested in what he told her; yet while she listened her eyes shone with the vague light of a thought very far away from what Antonio was saying. That thought was straying in a dark and empty distance; like a blind man feeling his way in a strange place, it sought and sought something to be a point of rest, a support, or at least a sign.