"No, signor," replied the boy, dropping his eyes, while a faint color rose to his cheek, as he met the penetrating gaze of the stranger.
"That will do, then. Bring wine and cigars, and leave us."
The boy did as directed, and hurried from the room.
"Handsome lad, that," said Lugari, carelessly. "Who is he?"
"Isadore something—I forget what. He is, as you say, remarkably handsome."
"He is not a Venetian?"
"No; English, I believe. I met him in Naples, friendless and nearly destitute, and took charge of him. Have a glass of wine?"
Lugari looked keenly in the face of his friend with a peculiar smile, that seemed to say: "Yes—I understand it perfectly;" but Louis, busy in lighting a cigar, did not observe him.
The morning passed rapidly away in gay conversation; and at the hour appointed, Louis sat in one of the magnificent rooms of the Palazzo B——, awaiting the entrance of the singer.
She soon made her appearance, quite bewitching in blue silk, but looking paler, he thought, than when he had seen her in the morning.