tain space of
time Standish did not care one continental objurgation whether Tina was
a princess or a char-woman, the statement would simply not be believed,
because we all know that Englishmen are a cold, calculating race of
men, with long side whiskers and a veil round their hats when they
travel.

It is serious when a young fellow sketches in water-colours a charming
sylph-like girl in various entrancing attitudes; it is disastrous when
she teaches him a soft flowing language like the Italian; but it is
absolute destruction when he teaches her the English tongue and watches
her pretty lips strive to surround words never intended for the vocal
resources of a foreigner. As all these influences were brought to bear
on Walter Standish, what chance did the young fellow have? Absolutely
as little as has the un-roped man who misses his footing on the
Matterhorn.

And Tina? Poor little girl, she was getting paid back with a vengeance
for all the heart-aches she had caused--Italian, German, or Swiss
variety. She fell helplessly in love with the stalwart Englishman, and
realised that she had never known before what the word meant. Bitterly
did she regret the sham battles of the heart that she had hitherto
engaged in. Standish took it so entirely for granted that he was the
first to touch her lips (in fact she admitted as much herself) that she
was in daily, hourly terror lest he should learn the truth. Meanwhile
Pietro unburdened his neglected soul of strange oily imprecations that
might have sounded to the uneducated ear of Standish like mellifluous
benedictions, notwithstanding the progress he was making in Italian
under Tina's tuition. However, Pietro had one panacea for all his woes,
and that he proceeded to sharpen carefully.

One evening Standish was floating dreamily through the purple haze,
thinking about Tina of course, and wondering how her piquant archness
and Southern beauty would strike his sober people at home. Tina was
very quick and adaptable, and he had no doubt she could act to
perfection any part he assigned to her, so he was in doubt whether to
introduce her as a remote connexion of the reigning family of Italy, or
merely as a countess in her own right. It would be quite easy to
ennoble the long line of hotel-keepers by the addition of "di" or "de"
or some such syllable to the family name. He must look up the right
combination of letters; he knew it began with "d." Then the
_pension_ could become dimly