t in the
physiognomy of her host; she turned her head after a moment and looked
idly round the room, and at last let her eyes rest on the statue of the
woman seated. It being left to Rowland to stimulate conversation, he
began by complimenting her on the beauty of her dog.

"Yes, he 's very handsome," she murmured. "He 's a Florentine. The dogs
in Florence are handsomer than the people." And on Rowland's caressing
him: "His name is Stenterello," she added. "Stenterello, give your hand
to the gentleman." This order was given in Italian. "Say buon giorno a
lei."

Stenterello thrust out his paw and gave four short, shrill barks; upon
which the elder lady turned round and raised her forefinger.

"My dear, my dear, remember where you are! Excuse my foolish child," she
added, turning to Roderick with an agreeable smile. "She can think of
nothing but her poodle."

"I am teaching him to talk for me," the young girl went on, without
heeding her mother; "to say little things in society. It will save me
a great deal of trouble. Stenterello, love, give a pretty smile and say
tanti complimenti!" The poodle wagged his white pate--it looked like
one of those little pads in swan's-down, for applying powder to the
face--and repeated the barking process.

"He is a wonderful beast," said Rowland.

"He is not a beast," said the young girl. "A beast is something black
and dirty--something you can't touch."

"He is a very valuable dog," the elder lady explained. "He was presented
to my daughter by a Florentine nobleman."

"It is not for that I care about him. It is for himself. He is better
than the prince."

"My dear, my dear!" repeated the mother in deprecating accents, but with
a significant glance at Rowland which seemed to bespeak his attention to
the glory of possessing a daughter who could deal in that fashion with
the aristocracy.

Rowland remembered that when their unknown visitors had passed before
them, a year previous, in the Villa Ludovisi, Roderick and he had
exchanged conjectures as to their nationality and social quality.
Roderick had declared that they were old-world people; but Rowland
now needed no telling to feel that he might claim the elder lady as a
fellow-countrywoman. She was a person of what is called a great deal
of presence, with the faded traces, artfully revived here and there, of
once brilliant beauty. Her daughter had come lawfully by her loveliness,
but Rowland mentally made the distinction that