"La Signorina—" began Kitty.
"There! I have warned you twice. The third time I shall be angry."
"Hilda, then. But I am afraid whenever I call you that. You do not belong to my world."
"And what makes you think that?" There was a smile behind the veil.
"I do not know, unless it is that you are at home everywhere, in the Campo, in the hotels, in the theater or the palace. Now, I am at home only in the theater, in places which are unreal and artificial. You are a great actress, a great singer; and yet, as O'Mally would say, you don't belong." Kitty had forgotten what she had started out to say.
La Signorina laughed. "Pouf! You have been reading too many novels. To the molo, Pompeo."
At the molo, the great quay of Venice, they disembarked. The whilom prima donna dropped fifty centesimi into Pompeo's palm, and he bowed to the very gunwale of the boat.
"Grazie, nobilità."
"What does he say?" asked Kitty.
"He says, 'Thanks, nobility.' If I had given him a penny it would have been thanks only. For a lira he would have added principessa—princess. The gondolier will give you any title you desire, if you are willing enough to pay for it. We shall return on foot, Pompeo; this will be all for the night."