ng, and Allegro
joined light-heartedly, as he nodded his agreement. Their gayety
attracted the attention of their neighbors, and for a while the
conversation became general. It was suggestive of the Tower of Babel.
Nina had turned to Porter with a remark in English, but Allegro added to
it in Italian. Tornik, whose Italian was only slightly more villainous
than his English, chimed in across the corner of the table in French,
but he soon forgot himself and broke into German. Nina found herself
mixing her sentences like Neapolitan ice cream into four languages,
until finally she put her hands over her ears and exclaimed, "_Attendez,
aspetarre, warten sie nur_, oh, do let us decide on one tongue at a
time!" They all laughed, and then, as is usual among a group of various
nationalities, the conversation went on in French.

Finally, Tornik and Allegro got into a discussion about the Austrian
influence in Italy, and Nina was left _tete-a-tete_ with Eliot Porter.

She had not met him before coming to Rome. He was a Californian. A
Westerner, she put it, but he answered her, "Not at all! I am from the
Pacific coast!" He was an agreeable man, much liked in Rome, and he was
writing a book on Roman society, a fact that greatly amused the
Italians. There was some mild and good-naturedly satirical speculation
about what he was going to put in it, but beyond the fact that he
acknowledged his subject, nothing was known of either his plot or his
characters.

"_Do_ tell me what you are going to put in your book. Is it of to-day,
or long ago?"

"The story is to be laid in Rome, the theme society, the time the
present."

"How fascinating! Ah, please tell me from whom you have drawn your
heroine," Nina continued. "Is she rich or poor? Italian, I suppose, and
of course young and beautiful! Is the hero a noble duke or an American
on the Prisoner of Zenda or Graustark model?"

"Supposing I should tell you that they were yourself, for the one, and
our friend Jack over the way, for the other!"

The coupling of her name with Derby's for the second time in less than
half an hour struck Nina, and she became absent-minded; then she said
vaguely, "But we are not Italians, either of us."

"Neither are my characters! I will tell you," he said, admitting her to
his confidence, "I am going to write of the Expatriates--the people who,
to those at home, are always said to be 'abroad.' The story from this
side of the water is interesting to me. An