And she read to him what she had written. It was not in the style of her pamphlet. It contained no invective; it was a pleasant traveller’s sketch.

He thought it very nice, but nothing out of the way. But that wasn’t necessary, she said, defending herself. And he kissed her, for her industry and her pluck. It was raining that day and they did not go out for their lunch; there were eggs and tomatoes and she made an omelette on an oil-stove. They drank water, ate quantities of bread. And, while the rain outside lashed the great curtain-less window of the studio, they enjoyed their repast, sitting like two birds that huddle side by side, against each other, so as not to get wet.

CHAPTER XXVIII

It was a couple of months after Easter, in the spring days of May. The flood of tourists had ebbed away immediately after the great church festivities; and Rome was already very hot and growing very quiet. One morning, when Cornélie was crossing the Piazza di Spagna, where the sunshine streamed along the cream-coloured front of the Trinita de’ Monti and down the monumental staircase, where only a few beggars and the very last flower-boy sat dreaming with blinking eye-lids in a shady corner, she saw the prince coming towards her. He bowed to her with a smile of gladness and hastened up to speak to her:

“How glad I am to meet you! I am in Rome for a day or two, on my way to San Stefano, to see my father on business. Business is always a bore; and this is more so than usual. Urania is at Nice. But it is too hot there and we are going away. We have just returned from a trip on the Mediterranean. Four weeks on board a friend’s yacht. It was delightful! Why did you never come to see us at Nice, as Urania asked you to?”

“I really wasn’t able to come.”

“I went to call on you yesterday in the Via dei Serpenti. They told me you had moved.”

He looked at her with a touch of mocking laughter in his small, glittering eyes. She did not speak.

“After that I did not like to commit a further indiscretion,” he said, meaningly. “Where are you going?”

“To the post-office.”