"Of course I am right," laughed the little lady. "Come here my Gonerilla, and hold my skein for me. Signor Graziano is going to charm us with one of his delightful airs."
"I hoped she would sing," faltered the signorino.
"Who? Gonerilla? Nonsense, my friend. She winds silk much better than she sings."
Goneril laughed. She was not at all offended. But Signor Graziano made several mistakes in his playing. At last he left the piano. "I cannot play tonight," he cried. "I am not in the humour. Goneril, will you come and walk with me on the terrace?"
Before the girl could reply Miss Prunty had darted an angry glance at Signor Graziano.
"Good Lord, what fools men are!" she ejaculated. "And do you think, now, I'm going to let that girl, who's but just getting rid of her malaria, go star-gazing with any old idiot while all the mists are curling out of the valleys?"
"Brigida, my love, you forget yourself," said Madame Petrucci.
"Bah!" cried the signorino. He was evidently out of temper.
The little lady hastened to smooth the troubled waters. "Talking of malaria," she began in her serenest manner, "I always remember what my dearest Madame Lilli told me. It was at one of Prince Teano's concerts. You remember, signorino?"
"Chè! How should I remember," he exclaimed. "It is a lifetime ago, dead and forgotten."