We were too late for the hotel déjeuner, and had to order it, I remember, à la carte. That was why the Count was kept waiting. We were kept waiting, too, which seemed at the moment of more importance, since the atmosphere of the classics had given us excellent appetites. Emmeline decided upon ices and petits fours in the Corso for her party, after which they were going to let nothing interfere with their inspection of the prison of St. Paul; but we came back and ordered a haricot. In the cavernous recesses beyond the door which opened kitchen-ward, commands resounded, and a quarter of an hour later a boy walked casually through the dining-room bearing beans in a basket. Time went on, and the Senator was compelled to send word that he had not ordered the repast for the following day. The small waiter then made a pretence of activity, and brought vinegar and salt, and rolls and water. "The peutates is notta-cooks," said he in deprecation, and we were distressed to postpone the Count for those peutates. But what else was possible?

The dismaying part was that after luncheon had enabled us to regard a little thing like that with equanimity, my parents abandoned it to me. Momma said she knew she was missing a great deal, but she really didn\'t feel equal to entertaining the Count; her back had given out completely. The Senator wished to attend to his mail. With the assistance of his letters and telegrams he was beginning to bear up wonderfully, and, as it was just in, I hadn\'t the heart to interfere. "You can apologise for us, daughter," said poppa, "and say something polite about our seeing him later. Don\'t let him suppose we\'ve gone back on him in any way. It\'s a thing no young fellow in America would think of, but with these foreigners you never can tell."

I saw at once that the Count was annoyed. He was standing in the middle of the salon, fingering his sword-hilt in a manner which expressed the most absurd irritation. So I said immediately that I was awfully sorry, but it seemed so difficult to get anything to eat in Rome at that time of year, that the head-waiter was really responsible, and wouldn\'t he sit down?

"I don\'t know what you will think of us," I went on as we shook hands. "How long have you been kind enough to wait, anyway?"

"Since a quarter of an hour—only," replied the Count, with a difficult smile, "but now that I see you it is forgotten all."

"That\'s very nice of you," I said. "I assure you momma was quite worked up about keeping you waiting. It\'s rather trying to the American temperament to be obliged to order a hurried luncheon from the market-gardener."

"So! In America you have him not—the market garden? You are each his own vegetable. Yes? Ah, how much better than the poor Italian! But Mistra and Madame Wick, they have not, I hope, the indisposition?"

"Well, I\'m afraid they have, Count—something like that. They said I was to ask you to excuse them. You see they\'ve been sight-seeing the whole morning, and that\'s something that can\'t be done by halves in your city. The stranger has to put his whole soul into it, hasn\'t he?"

"Ah, the whole soul! It is too fatiguing," Count Filgiatti assented. He glanced at me uncertainly, and rose. "Kindly may I ask that you give my deepest afflictions to Mistra and Madame Wick for their health?"

"Oh," I said, "if you must! But I\'m here, you know." I put no hauteur into my tone, because I saw that it was a misunderstanding.

He still hesitated and I remembered that the Filgiatti intelligence probably dated from the Middle Ages, and had undergone very little alteration since. "You have made such a short visit," I said. "I must be a very bad substitute for momma and poppa."

A flash of comprehension illuminated my visitor\'s countenance. "I pray that you do not think such a wrong thing," he said impulsively. "If it is permitted, I again sit down."

"Do," said I, and he did. Anything else would have seemed perfectly unreasonable, and yet for the moment he twisted his moustache, apparently in the most foolish embarrassment. To put him at his ease, I told him how lovely I thought the fountains. "That\'s one of your most ideal connections with ancient history, don\'t you think?" I said. "The fact that those old aqueducts of yours have been bringing down the water to sparkle and ripple in Roman streets ever since."

"Idealissimo! And the Trevi of Bernini—I hope you threw the soldi, so that you must come back to Rome!"

"We weren\'t quite sure which it was," I responded, "so poppa threw soldi into all of them, to make certain. Sometimes he had to make two or three shots," and I could not help smiling at the recollection.

"Ah, the profusion!"

"I don\'t suppose they came to a quarter of a dollar, Count. It is the cheapest of your amusements."

The Count reflected for a moment.

"Then you wish to return to Rome," he said softly; "you take interest here?"

"Why yes," I said, "I\'m not a barbarian. I\'m from Illinois."

"Then why do you go away?"

"Our time is so limited."

"Ah, Mees Wick, you have all of your life." The Italians certainly have exquisite voices.

"That is true," I said thoughtfully.

"Many young American ladies now live always in Italy," pursued Count Filgiatti.

"Is that so?" I replied pleasantly. "They are domiciled here with their parents?"

"Y—yes. Sometimes it is like that. And sometimes——"

"Sometimes they are working in the studios. I know. A delightful life it must be."

The Count looked at the carpet. "Ah, signorina, you misunderstand my poor English," he said; "she means quite different."

It was not coquetry which induced me to cast down my eyes.

"The American young lady will sometimes contract alliance."

"Oh!" I exclaimed.

"Yes. And if it is a good arrangimento it is always quite quite happy."

"We are said," I observed thoughtfully, "to be able, as a people, to accommodate ourselves to circumstances."

"You approve this idea! Signorina, you are so amiable, it is heavenly."

"I see no objection to it," I said. "It is entirely a matter of taste."

"And the American ladies have much taste," observed Count Filgiatti blandly.

"I\'m afraid it isn\'t infallible," I said, "but it is charming to hear it approved."

"The American lady comes in Italy. She is young, beautiful, with a grace—ah! And perhaps there is a little income—a few dollar—but we do not speak of that—it is a trifle, only to make possible the arrangimento."

"I see," I said.

"The American lady is so perceivin............