e cover of his watch, and the facsimile of her
autograph was engraved across the lid of his silver cigarette-case.
Pompeo Stromboli carried some of her hair in a locket which he wore on
his chain between two amulets against the Evil Eye. Fraeulein Ottilie
treasured a little water-colour sketch of her as Juliet on which
Margaret had written a few friendly words, and the Baci-Roventi
actually went to the length of asking her advice about the high notes
the contralto has to sing in such operas as _Semiramide_. It would be
hard to imagine a more sincere proof of affection and admiration than
this.

Margaret knew that the greeting was genuine and that she ought to be
pleased, but at the first moment the noise and the kissing and the
rough promiscuity of it all disgusted her.

Then she saw that all had brought her little presents, which were
arranged side by side on the piano, and she suddenly remembered that
it was her birthday. They were small things without value, intended
to make her laugh. Stromboli had sent to Italy for a Neapolitan clay
figure of a shepherd, cleverly modelled and painted, and vaguely
resembling himself--he had been a Calabrian goatherd. The contralto,
who came from Bologna, the city of sausages, gave Margaret a tiny pig
made of silver with holes in his back, in which were stuck a number of
quill toothpicks.

'You will think of me when you use them at table,' she said,
charmingly unconscious of English prejudices.

Schreiermeyer presented her with a bronze statuette of Shylock
whetting his knife upon his thigh.

'It will encourage you to sign our next agreement,' he observed
with stony calm. 'It is the symbol of business. We are all symbolic
nowadays.'

Fraeulein Ottilie Braun had wrought a remarkable little specimen of
German sentiment. She had made a little blue pin-cushion and had
embroidered some little flowers on it in brown silk. Margaret had no
difficulty in looking pleased, but she also looked slightly puzzled.

'They are forget-me-nots,' said the Fraeulein, 'but because my name is
Braun I made them brown. You see? So you will remember your little
Braun forget-me-not!'

Margaret laughed at the primitively simple little jest, but she was
touched too, and somehow she felt that her eyes were not quite dry
as she kissed the good little woman again. But Logotheti could not
understand at all, and thought it all extremely silly. He did not like
Margaret's improvised turban, either, though he