r ever. But it doesn't matter, after all; you're too fair to look upon
for spies to guess your opinions, even though you can't simper and hide
behind your fan like Signora Grassini."

"Now Cesare, let that poor woman alone! There, take some more
barley-sugar to sweeten your temper. Are you ready? Then we had better
start."

Martini had been quite right in saying that the conversazione would be
both crowded and dull. The literary men talked polite small-talk and
looked hopelessly bored, while the "nondescript crowd of tourists and
Russian princes" fluttered up and down the rooms, asking each other
who were the various celebrities and trying to carry on intellectual
conversation. Grassini was receiving his guests with a manner as
carefully polished as his boots; but his cold face lighted up at the
sight of Gemma. He did not really like her and indeed was secretly a
little afraid of her; but he realized that without her his drawing room
would lack a great attraction. He had risen high in his profession, and
now that he was rich and well known his chief ambition was to make of
his house a centre of liberal and intellectual society. He was painfully
conscious that the insignificant, overdressed little woman whom in his
youth he had made the mistake of marrying was not fit, with her vapid
talk and faded prettiness, to be the mistress of a great literary salon.
When he could prevail upon Gemma to come he always felt that the evening
would be a success. Her quiet graciousness of manner set the guests at
their ease, and her very presence seemed to lay the spectre of vulgarity
which always, in his imagination, haunted the house.

Signora Grassini greeted Gemma affectionately, exclaiming in a loud
whisper: "How charming you look to-night!" and examining the
white cashmere with viciously critical eyes. She hated her visitor
rancourously, for the very things for which Martini loved her; for her
quiet strength of character; for her grave, sincere directness; for the
steady balance of her mind; for the very expression of her face.
And when Signora Grassini hated a woman, she showed it by effusive
tenderness. Gemma took the compliments and endearments for what they
were worth, and troubled her head no more about them. What is called
"going into society" was in her eyes one of the wearisome and rather
unpleasant tasks which a conspirator who wishes not to attract the
notice of spies must conscientiously fulfil. She classed it together