Helen debated with herself long and seriously regarding the contessa’s invitation. As she had said to Uncle Peabody, her new acquaintance both repelled and attracted her. Here was a woman who had undoubtedly passed through far more bitter experiences than she herself would ever be called upon to endure, yet was able to rise supremely above them and force from the world that which she still considered to be her just due. Helen could not help admiring her for this quality, and she tried to draw from her example some lessons which might be applicable to the present situation. At first she thought of insisting that her husband accompany her. She felt certain that he would not refuse her if he really understood that she expected and wished it, yet she knew without his telling her how distasteful it would be to him. If they were planning to live in Florence, it would, of course, be necessary for him to place himself in evidence, as the contessa had said, for the “respectability” of it; but as their life in Italy was so nearly ended—as their life together was so nearly ended—she felt that there was nothing to be gained in asking him to make this sacrifice. So Helen decided to return the contessa’s call alone.
Alfonse was waiting for her in the motor-car when Emory drove into the court-yard. Seeing the machine, he alighted and stepped through the open door into the hall, where he intercepted her a few moments later when she came down-stairs.
“So you are just going out?” he said, by way of greeting.
“Why, Phil—where did you come from?”
“Out of that old picture there,” he replied, pointing to the wall. “Don’t I look funny without my ruffles and knee-breeches?”
“Do be serious, Phil,” Helen laughed.
“I am serious. How could I be otherwise when I see you just going out when I have come all the way up here to have a quiet little chat?”
Helen was clearly disturbed. “This is really too bad,” she said, trying to think of some plan out of it. “I promised the Contessa Morelli to take tea with her this afternoon, or I would stay home.”
“The Contessa Morelli!” exclaimed Emory. “That simplifies everything.”
“I don’t see how,” Helen remarked, frankly.