an American woman
from the Southern States, who had lived most of her life in Europe. She
was about forty years of age, handsome, well-dressed, and quiet in the
buzz of the tea-party. It was evident she was one of Algy's lionesses.
Now she sat by Aaron, eating nothing, but taking a cup of tea and
keeping still. She seemed sad--or not well perhaps. Her eyes were
heavy. But she was very carefully made up, and very well dressed, though
simply: and sitting there, full-bosomed, rather sad, remote-seeming, she
suggested to Aaron a modern Cleopatra brooding, Anthony-less.

Her husband, the Marchese, was a little intense Italian in a colonel's
grey uniform, cavalry, leather gaiters. He had blue eyes, his hair was
cut very short, his head looked hard and rather military: he would have
been taken for an Austrian officer, or even a German, had it not been
for the peculiar Italian sprightliness and touch of grimace in his
mobile countenance. He was rather like a gnome--not ugly, but odd.

Now he came and stood opposite to Signor di Lanti, and quizzed him
in Italian. But it was evident, in quizzing the old buck, the little
Marchese was hovering near his wife, in ear-shot. Algy came up with
cigarettes, and she at once began to smoke, with that peculiar heavy
intensity of a nervous woman.

Aaron did not say anything--did not know what to say. He was peculiarly
conscious of the woman sitting next to him, her arm near his. She smoked
heavily, in silence, as if abstracted, a sort of cloud on her level,
dark brows. Her hair was dark, but a softish brown, not black, and her
skin was fair. Her bosom would be white.--Why Aaron should have had this
thought, he could not for the life of him say.

Manfredi, her husband, rolled his blue eyes and grimaced as he laughed
at old Lanti. But it was obvious that his attention was diverted
sideways, towards his wife. Aaron, who was tired of nursing a tea-cup,
placed in on a table and resumed his seat in silence. But suddenly the
little Marchese whipped out his cigarette-case, and making a little bow,
presented it to Aaron, saying:

"Won't you smoke?"

"Thank you," said Aaron.

"Turkish that side--Virginia there--you see."

"Thank you, Turkish," said Aaron.

The little officer in his dove-grey and yellow uniform snapped his box
shut again, and presented a light.

"You are new in Florence?" he said, as he presented the match.

"Four days," said Aaron.

"And I hear you are musical."

"I p