“It was a conversation I have never forgotten. It would have been for my advantage to renew it, but I never go into society—at Paris.”
“And elsewhere?”
“Elsewhere it is a different thing,” said he, smiling. “I am as social while travelling as I am uncivilized at my return.”
“We must not expect, then, to meet you again in Paris; but if you ever go to Italy, may we not hope you will come to see us?”
“If you will allow me to do so,” said he eagerly.
“Yes, certainly. I think I can promise that the well-known hospitality of the Neapolitans will not be wanting towards the Comte Gilbert de Kergy.”
After a moment's silence he resumed: “You must have been absent when I was at Naples. That was two years ago.”
“I was not married then, and I am not a Neapolitan.”
“And not an Italian, perhaps.”
“Do you say so on account of the color of my hair? That would be astonishing on the part of so observant a traveller, for you must have noticed that our great masters had almost as many blondes as brunettes for their models. However, I am neither English nor German, as perhaps you are tempted to think. I am a Sicilian.”