nally, I don't.
She's a Hungarian gipsy, or something of that kind, so Riccardo says;
from some provincial theatre in Galicia. He seems to be rather a cool
hand; he has been introducing the girl to people just as if she were his
maiden aunt."

"Well, that's only fair if he has taken her away from her home."

"You may look at things that way, dear Madonna, but society won't. I
think most people will very much resent being introduced to a woman whom
they know to be his mistress."

"How can they know it unless he tells them so?"

"It's plain enough; you'll see if you meet her. But I should think even
he would not have the audacity to bring her to the Grassinis'."

"They wouldn't receive her. Signora Grassini is not the woman to do
unconventional things of that kind. But I wanted to hear about Signor
Rivarez as a satirist, not as a man. Fabrizi told me he had been written
to and had consented to come and take up the campaign against the
Jesuits; and that is the last I have heard. There has been such a rush
of work this week."

"I don't know that I can tell you much more. There doesn't seem to have
been any difficulty over the money question, as we feared there would
be. He's well off, it appears, and willing to work for nothing."

"Has he a private fortune, then?" "Apparently he has; though it seems
rather odd--you heard that night at Fabrizi's about the state the Duprez
expedition found him in. But he has got shares in mines somewhere out in
Brazil; and then he has been immensely successful as a feuilleton writer
in Paris and Vienna and London. He seems to have half a dozen languages
at his finger-tips; and there's nothing to prevent his keeping up his
newspaper connections from here. Slanging the Jesuits won't take all his
time."

"That's true, of course. It's time to start, Cesare. Yes, I will wear
the roses. Wait just a minute."

She ran upstairs, and came back with the roses in the bosom of her
dress, and a long scarf of black Spanish lace thrown over her head.
Martini surveyed her with artistic approval.

"You look like a queen, Madonna mia; like the great and wise Queen of
Sheba."

"What an unkind speech!" she retorted, laughing; "when you know how hard
I've been trying to mould myself into the image of the typical society
lady! Who wants a conspirator to look like the Queen of Sheba? That's
not the way to keep clear of spies."

"You'll never be able to personate the stupid society woman if you try
fo