a
Robbia, but it was not uttered. The elder woman evidently enjoyed her
position as cicerone, and at last her catalogue of celebrities so
wearied the cure that he grew nervous. He turned to watch Lady Dauntrey,
at a distance, trying to read her face and that of the melancholy man he
took to be her husband. He did not like to think of Miss Grant--his
Principino's Miss Grant--being at that woman's house.

"We shall see what can be done," he said to himself, trying to enliven
the long minutes of his waiting, minutes which seemed to grow longer and
ever longer, like shadows at evening.

By six o'clock the great hall and tea-room adjoining were nearly empty.
The Dauntreys and the Holbeins had gone, and nearly all the pretty,
chattering young women who were like advertisements in picture-papers.
Still Miss Bland and her friend lingered over their tea and cakes,
though they had ceased to eat or drink; and the cure could not help
thinking that they had a special object in staying on. Eventually,
however, they paid the hovering waiter, and slowly walked out, Idina
Bland once again bending her head coldly to the priest.

Night's darkness shut round the brilliant _Place_ of the Casino, like a
blue wall surrounding a golden cube of light, and the cure would have a
dark walk up the mule path. In order to come down that afternoon, he had
given the service of vespers to a friend from Nice, who had just arrived
for a short visit and a "rest cure"; still, he had expected to be back
by this time. He began to feel oddly homesick and even unhappy in this
hall which to his taste appeared garish. It seemed to him that he was a
prisoner, and that he would be detained here forever. A childish
yearning for his little parlour filled his heart. The waiters stared at
him. But he sat very upright and unyielding on the chair which was made
for lazy comfort.

"I will stay," he said to himself, "if it must be, till after midnight.
Those two shall be made to save one another. It is the only way. And
there is no time to waste."

At seven o'clock Vanno came in hastily, glancing at his watch. He walked
so fast across the marble floor, with its islands of rugs, that he was
at the foot of the stairway before the shorter-legged cure could
intercept him; but at the sound of the familiar voice calling
"Principino!" he turned, astonished.

The cure thought that he looked weary, and older than on that first
blue-and-gold morning on the mountain; but the w