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Carlo, buona sera--a rivederci,
Contessa! A questa sera."
He showed his splendid teeth in a fixed but winning smile, and, hat in
hand, went by, walking from his hips. Then, replacing his hat on his
head, he added to his friend:
"The Marchesa is always hoping that the Duchessa d'Aosta will come one
day, if only for a moment, to smile upon the geese. But--well, the
Duchessa prefers to climb to the fourth story to see the poor. She has
a heart. Let us sit here, Emilio."
They sat down under the trees, and the Marchesino looked at his
pointed boots for a moment in silence, pushing forward his under lip
until his blond mustache touched the jaunty tip of his nose. Then he
began to laugh, still looking before him.
"Emilio! Emilio!"
He shook his head repeatedly.
"Emilio mio! And that you should be asking me to show you Naples! It
is too good! C'est parfait!"
The Marchesino turned towards Artois.
"And Maria Fortunata! Santa Maria of the Toledo, the white-haired
protectress of the strangers! Emilio--you might have come to me! But
you do not trust me.


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