bisogna, Illustris simo_?"

The Senator was dreadfully embarrassed. The lady was so fair in his
eyes. Was this a woman who could contemplate the fact of soiled
linen? Never.

"Ehem!" said he.

Then he paused.

"_Servo, devota_," said Signora Mirandolina. "_Che c'e, Signore_."

Then looking up, she saw the face of the Senator all rosy red,
turned toward her, with a strange confusion and embarrassment in his
eye, yet it was a kind eye--a soft, kind eye.

"_Egli e forse innamorato di me_," murmured the lady, gathering
new courage as she saw the timidity of the other. "_Che grandezza_!"
she continued, loud enough for the Senator to hear, yet speaking as
if to herself. "_Che bellezza_! _un galantuomo, certamente--e quest'
e molto piacevole_."

She glanced at the manly figure of the Senator with a tender
admiration in her eye which she could not repress, and which was so
intelligible to the Senator that he blushed more violently than ever,
and looked helplessly around him.

"_E innamorato di me, senza dubio_," said the Signora, "_vergogna non
vuol che si sapesse_."

The Senator at length found voice. Advancing toward the lady he
looked at her very earnestly and as she thought very piteously--held
out both his hands, then smiled, then spread his hands apart, then
nodded and smiled again, and said--

"Me--me--want--ha--hum--ah! You know--me--gentleman--hum--me
--Confound the luck," he added, in profound vexation.

"_Signore_," said Mirandolina, "_la di Lei gentelezza me confonde_."

The Senator turned his eyes all around, everywhere, in a desperate
half-conscious search for escape from an embarrassing situation.

"_Signore noi ci siamo sole, nessuno ci senti_," remarked the
Signora, encouragingly.

"Me want to tell you this!" burst forth the Senator. "Clothes--you
know--washy--washy." Whereupon he elevated his eyebrows, smiled,
and brought the tips of his fingers together.

"_Io non so che cosa vuol dir mi. Illustrissimo_," said the Signora,
in bewilderment.

"You--you--you know. Ah? Washy? Hey? No, no," shaking his head, "not
washy, but _get_ washy."

The landlady smiled. The Senator, encouraged by this, came a step
nearer.

"_Che cosa? Il cuor me palpita. Io tremo_," murmured La Rocca.

She retreated a step. Whereupon the Senator at once fell back again
in great confusion.

"Washy, washy," he repeated, mechanically, as his mind was utterly
vague and distrait.

"_Uassi-Uuassi_?" repeated the othe