"It is unnecessary," he said, taking the lamp to show her the way more clearly. "I have the honor to wish you good-morning, signorina." And again he bowed respectfully. "Your most humble servant, signorina."
She returned to the hotel, and found that her mother had gone up-stairs to her own room.
"Natalushka, you have been away trying to find some one?"
"Yes, mother," the girl said, rather sadly.
"Why did you go alone?"
"I thought I would not tire you, dear mother."
Then she described all the circumstances of her morning's visit.
"But why should you be so sad, Natalushka?" the mother said, taking her daughter's hand; "don't you know that fine palaces may have rusty keys? Oh, I can reassure you on that point. You will not have to deal with persons like your friend the wine-merchant—not at all. I know at least as much as that, child. But you see, they have to guard themselves."
Natalie would not leave the hotel for a moment. She pretended to read; but every person who came into the reading-room caused her to look up with a start of apprehensive inquiry. At last there came a note for her. She broke open the envelope hurriedly, and found a plain white card, with these words written on it:
"Be at the Villa Odelschalchi, Portici, at four this afternoon."