nd tied in a
loose sailor's-knot. She liked his clothes, and she liked the way he
wore them. They suited him. They were loose and comfortable and
unconventional, but they were beautifully fresh and well cared for, and
showed him, if indifferent to the fashion-plate of the season,
meticulous in a fashion of his own. "It's hard to imagine him dressed
otherwise," she said, and instantly had a vision of him dressed for
dinner.

But what--what--what was he doing at Castel Sant' Alessina?

VI

Meanwhile he plainly knew a tremendous lot about Italian art. Lady
Blanchemain herself knew a good deal, and could recognize a pundit. He
illumined their progress by a running fire of exposition and commentary,
learned and discerning, to which she encouragingly listened, and, as
occasion required, amiably responded. But Boltraffios, Bernardino
Luinis, even a putative Giorgione, could not divert her mind from its
human problem. What was he doing at Castel Sant' Alessina, the property,
according to her guide-book, of an Austrian prince? What was his status
here, apparently (bar servants) in solitary occupation? Was he its
tenant? He couldn't, surely, this well-dressed, high-bred, cultivated
young compatriot, he couldn't be a mere employe, a steward or curator?
No: probably a tenant. Antecedently indeed it might seem unlikely that a
young Englishman should become the tenant of an establishment so huge
and so sequestered; but was it conceivable that this particular young
Englishman should be a mere employe? And was there any other
alternative? She hearkened for a word, a note, that might throw light;
but of such notes, such words, a young man's conversation, in the
circumstances, would perhaps naturally yield a meagre crop.

"You mustn't let me tire you," he said presently, as one who had
forgotten and suddenly remembered that looking at pictures is exhausting
work. "Won't you sit here and rest a little?"

They were in a smaller room than any they had previously traversed, an
octagonal room, which a single lofty window filled with sunshine.

"Oh, thank you," said Lady Blanchemain, and seated herself on the
circular divan in the centre of the polished terrazza floor. She wasn't
really tired in the least, the indefatigable old sight-seer; but a
respite from picture-gazing would enable her to turn the talk. She put
up her mother-of-pearl lorgnon, and glanced round the walls; then,
lowering it, she frankly raised her eyes, full o