ntentionally.

"Oh no!" Cecilia answered. "He lets me do as I please about such
things."

"And what has been your pleasure?" asked Guido, with a beginning of
interest, as well as for the sake of hearing her young voice, which
contrasted pleasantly with her mother's satisfied purring and the
Princess's disagreeable tone.

"I got the best artist I could find to restore the whole place as nearly
as possible to what it was meant to be. I am satisfied with the result.
So is my mother," she added, with an evident afterthought.

"My daughter is very artistic," the Countess explained.

Cecilia looked at Guido, and a faint smile illuminated her face for a
moment. Guido bent his head almost imperceptibly, as if to say that he
knew what she meant, and it seemed to Lamberti that the two already
understood each other. He rose to go, moved by an impulse he could not
resist. Guido looked at him in surprise, for he had expected his friend
to wait for him.

"Must you go already?" asked the Princess, in a colourless tone that did
not invite Lamberti to stay. "But I suppose you are very busy when you
are in Rome. Good-bye."

As he took his leave, his eyes met Cecilia's. It might have been only
his imagination, after all, but he felt sure that her whole expression
changed instantly to a look of deep and sincere understanding, even of
profound sympathy.

"I hope you will come to the villa," she said gravely, and she seemed to
wait for his answer.

"Thank you. I shall be there."

There was a short silence, as Monsieur Leroy went with him to the door
at the other end of the long room, but Cecilia did not watch him; she
seemed to be interested in a large portrait that hung opposite the
nearest window, and which was suddenly lighted up by the glow of the
sunset. It represented a young king, standing on a step, in coronation
robes, with a vast ermine mantle spreading behind him and to one side,
and an uncomfortable-looking crown on his head; a sceptre lay on a
highly polished table at his elbow, beside an open arch, through which
the domes and spires of a city were visible. There was no particular
reason why he should be standing there, apparently alone, and in a
distinctly theatrical attitude, and the portrait was not a good picture;
but Cecilia looked at it steadily till she heard the door shut, after
Lamberti had gone out.

"Your friend is not a very gay person," observed the Princess. "Is he
always so silent?"

"Yes," Guido