her. 'Did she feel ill--everything in the house
was at her disposition--

"'Servants, carpets, chairs and tables,
Kitchen, pantry, hall and stables,
Everything above or under;
All my present earthly plunder,
All too small for such a wonder.'

"The lady, with a smile and a glance in which there was not the slightest
trace of being startled or abashed, replied:

"''Tis not worth while your house to rifle,
_O mio Signor_, for such a trifle.
'Tis but a slight indisposition,
For which I'll rest, by your permission.'

"The Signore Pietro, as an improvisatore, was delighted with such a ready
answer, and remarking that he was something of a doctor, begged
permission to bring a soothing cordial, admirable for the nerves, which
he hoped to have the honour of placing directly in that fairy-like hand.
. . . The Signore vanished to seek the _calmante_.

"The guests had begun by this time to notice this lady, and from her
extremely strange appearance they gathered round her, expecting at first
to have some sport in listening to, or quizzing, an eccentric or a
character. But they changed their mind as they came to consider
her--some feeling an awe as if she were a _fata_, and all being finally
convinced that whoever she was she had come there to _sell_ somebody
amazingly cheap, nor did they feel quite assured that they themselves
were not included in the bargain.

"The Signore Pietro returned with the soothing cordial; he had evidently
not drunk any of it himself while on the errand, for there was a massive
chased iron table inlaid with gold and silver in his way, and the mighty
lord with an angry blow from his giant arm, like one from a blacksmith's
No. 1 hammer, broke it, adding an artisan-like oath, and knocked it over.
Flirtation had begun.

"'Did you hurt yourself, Signore?' asked the lady amiably.

"'Not I, indeed,' he replied proudly. 'A Stone is my name, but it ought
to have been Iron, lady, for I am hard as nails, a regular Ferrone or big
man of iron, and all my ancestors were Ferroni too; ah! we are a strong
lot--at your service!' Saying this he handed the cup to the lady, who
drank the potion, and then, instead of giving the goblet back to the
Signore Pietro, as he expected, meaning to gallantly drink off _les doux
restes_, she beckoned with her finger and an upward scoop of her hand to
the table, which was lying disconsolately on its back with its legs
upwards, like a t