The conquest of Rome

by Matilde Serao

'You do not read now?'

'No; I am tired of books.'

'They are no use.'

The man-servant came in with a small bamboo tray and the coffee; the cups, too, were Japanese, of a most delicate, blue porcelain.

'How many lumps?' she asked, holding up the silver sugar-tongs.

'Two.'

While they were drinking the coffee Sangiorgio looked about the room. He had been there for a moment, before dinner, while the Countess had gone to change her dress. It was a little parlour, without brackets, without tables, without upholstered furniture, full of large and small easy-chairs, small divans, and stools; it was a little room without corners. The piano was also draped with a quantity of Turkish and Persian stuffs. On the wall hung a piece of an ecclesiastical vestment, red and embroidered with gold.

'You will see that to-morrow a number of deputies will ask to be presented to you. You will enjoy all the sweets of success.'

'Am I to believe in the admiration of my colleagues?'