ecious Auntie Princess!" she whispered to herself.

CHAPTER XVIII

FAVORITA DRIVES A BARGAIN

As the winter progressed, Favorita's temper showed so little improvement
that those whose duty brought them in contact with her at the theatre
were on the verge of resigning their posts. Her dresser had a thoroughly
cowed expression; her manager consumed more black cigars than were good
for him; the _corps de ballet_ had hysterics singly and indignation
councils _en masse_. In fact, the call-boy, who seemed to enjoy
tormenting her, was the only member of the company who took her rages
cheerfully.

Finally even Giovanni became uneasy; a well-bred woman could be counted
on in given circumstances to do thus and so, but Favorita was of lowest
peasant birth: her people were of the mountain districts, so primitive
in thought and habit that her early training had taught her obedience to
nothing higher than impulse. Superficially, she submitted to the
dictates of civilization, just as a half-wild animal submits to the
control of his trainer. And in a very real sense Giovanni occupied, in
relation to her, the trainer's position. He was the force that held her
in check; but though to the audience of the world he appeared perfectly
at ease, a definite apprehensiveness underlay his seeming composure.

Matters at last came to a crisis. Giovanni was about to leave the palace
one morning a day or two after the Masco dinner, when a neatly dressed
woman passed him on the grand stairway. She was wearing a thick veil,
but he had an eye for outline and he knew that there was only one woman
in Rome with just that half-floating lightness of movement. At once he
blocked her way.

She was forced to halt; but her feet did not stand quite still, and
there was an effect of briefly suspended motion in her attitude, as
though she sought a chance to dart past him.

"Good-morning, signorina!" Giovanni's urbanity was for the benefit of
the footmen. For a few seconds there was a straightening of her figure;
poised for flight, she held her head a little to one side as she swiftly
scanned his face.

Giovanni dropped his voice. "I was just on my way to see you. Come,
_cara mia_," he said persuasively. "I have something I want to talk over
with you--it is impossible here with lackeys listening to everything we
may say. Come, dear."

She looked at him a moment, wavering, then shrugged her shoulders. "Very
well," she said, and descended the stairs