"What time is it, signora?"
Hermione looked at her watch.
"Nearly eight o'clock. An hour still before supper."
"I've got everything ready."
"To-night we've only cold things, haven't we? You made us a very nice collazione. The French signore praised your cooking, and he's very particular, as French people generally are. So you ought to be proud of yourself."
Lucrezia smiled, but only for an instant. Then she stood with an anxious face, twisting her apron.
"Signora!"
"Yes? What is it?"
"Would you mind—may I—"