But Giustini did not hear him. He had taken his hat off again to a brougham that passed. This time the carriage stopped; a slender hand gloved in black let down the window, and beckoned to the Tuscan deputy. Sangiorgio remained alone in contemplation of his companion, who, with his body leaning against the door and his head inside the carriage, seemed to be indulging in a chat. In a little while Giustini came back to Sangiorgio, and said to him:
'Come, I will present you to the Countess Fiammanti.'
Sangiorgio had no time to demur or even to reply; he at once found himself beside the carriage.
'Countess, the Honourable Sangiorgio, member for Tito, a Southerner and a newcomer.'
The Countess's fine gray eyes lit up mischievously; her mobile mouth stretched to a smile.
'I asked Giustini to present you, after hearing you were from the South. How unpleasant Rome must seem to you, Honourable! Oh, Naples is so lovely, I adore it! My husband was a Neapolitan. From him I learned to love Naples and everything there. How smooth the speech is, and how agreeable compared to the ugly Tuscan accent, Giustini!'
'Is that the reason, Countess, that you never let me speak when I begin to——'
'Make love to me? No, my dear Giustini, I like you too well to let you. Love is an old, played-out farce, which nobody any longer laughs at. Honourable Sangiorgio, you must think we are very frivolous, do you not? We know how to be serious, for example, when Giustini tells me about politics. I am greatly interested in politics; they amuse me. And you?'
'They are the only thing that interest me,' said Sangiorgio rather rudely.
'Oh, they amuse me so much!' exclaimed the lady, without showing that she had noticed his discourtesy.