at his
feverishness. "Excuse me," he said, "I'm off again, I'm incorrigible. But
it's understood, we'll leave that subject alone, and you'll come back
here, and we'll chat together when you've seen everything."

From that moment he showed himself extremely pleasant, and it was
apparent to Pierre that he regretted having said so much, by the
seductive affability and growing affection which he now displayed. He
begged the young priest to prolong his sojourn, to abstain from all hasty
judgments on Rome, and to rest convinced that, at bottom, Italy still
loved France. And he was also very desirous that France should love
Italy, and displayed genuine anxiety at the thought that perhaps she
loved her no more. As at the Boccanera mansion, on the previous evening,
Pierre realised that an attempt was being made to persuade him to
admiration and affection. Like a susceptible woman with secret misgivings
respecting the attractive power of her beauty, Italy was all anxiety with
regard to the opinion of her visitors, and strove to win and retain their
love.

However, Orlando again became impassioned when he learnt that Pierre was
staying at the Boccanera mansion, and he made a gesture of extreme
annoyance on hearing, at that very moment, a knock at the outer door.
"Come in!" he called; but at the same time he detained Pierre, saying,
"No, no, don't go yet; I wish to know--"

But a lady came in--a woman of over forty, short and extremely plump, and
still attractive with her small features and pretty smile swamped in fat.
She was a blonde, with green, limpid eyes; and, fairly well dressed in a
sober, nicely fitting mignonette gown, she looked at once pleasant,
modest, and shrewd.

"Ah! it's you, Stefana," said the old man, letting her kiss him.

"Yes, uncle, I was passing by and came up to see how you were getting
on."

The visitor was the Signora Sacco, niece of Prada and a Neapolitan by
birth, her mother having quitted Milan to marry a certain Pagani, a
Neapolitan banker, who had afterwards failed. Subsequent to that disaster
Stefana had married Sacco, then merely a petty post-office clerk. He,
later on, wishing to revive his father-in-law's business, had launched
into all sorts of terrible, complicated, suspicious affairs, which by
unforeseen luck had ended in his election as a deputy. Since he had
arrived in Rome, to conquer the city in his turn, his wife had been
compelled to assist his devouring ambition by dressing well