o full of chivalry and truth. She liked pretty Dora, too; but there
were times when the dainty, fastidious countess looked at the young
wife in wonder, for, as she said one evening to her husband:

"There is something in Mrs. Thorne that puzzles me--she does not always
speak or look like a lady--"

Few days passed without bringing Ronald and Dora to the Villa Rosali.
It would have been better for Ronald had he never left his pretty home
on the banks of the Arno.

Chapter X

Going into society increased the expenses which Ronald and his wife
found already heavy enough. There were times when the money received
from the sale of his pictures failed in liquidating bills; then Ronald
grew anxious, and Dora, not knowing what better to do, wept and blamed
herself for all the trouble. It was a relief then to leave the home
over which the clouds lowered and seek the gay villa, where something
pleasant and amusing was always going on.

The countess gathered around her the elite of Florentine society; she
selected her friends and acquaintances as carefully as she selected her
dresses, jewels, and flowers. She refused to know "bores" and
"nobodies"; her lady friends must be pretty, piquant, or fashionable,
any gentleman admitted into her charmed circle must have genius, wit,
or talent to recommend him. Though grave matrons shook their heads and
looked prudish when the Countess Rosali was mentioned, yet to belong to
her set was to receive the "stamp of fashion." No day passed without
some amusement at the villa--picnic, excursion, soiree, dance, or, what
its fair mistress preferred, private theatricals and charades.

"Help me," she said one morning, as Ronald and Dora, in compliance with
her urgent invitation, came to spend the day at the villa--"help me; I
want to do something that will surprise every one. There are some
great English people coming to Florence--one of your heiresses, who is
at the same time a beauty. We must have some grand charades or
tableaus. What would you advise? Think of something original that
will take Florence by surprise."

"Wishing any one to be original," said Ronald, smiling at her quick,
eager ways, "immediately deprives one of all thought. I must have
time; it seems to me you have exhausted every subject."

"An artist has never-failing resources," she replied; "when every
'fount of inspiration' is closed it will be time to tell me there are
no ideas. You must have seen many cha