ooked handsomer than usual.

"Eccomi qua!" he cried, seizing my hands enthusiastically in his own.
"My dear conte, I am delighted to see you! What an excellent fellow you
are! A kind of amiable Arabian Nights genius, who occupies himself in
making mortals happy. And how are you? You look remarkably well!"

"I can return the compliment," I said, gayly. "You are more of an
Antinous than ever."

He laughed, well pleased, and sat down, drawing off his gloves and
loosening his traveling overcoat.

"Well, I suppose plenty of cash puts a man in good humor, and therefore
in good condition," he replied. "But my dear fellow, you are dressed
for dinner--quel preux chevalier! I am positively unfit to be in your
company! You insisted that I should come to you directly, on my
arrival, but I really must change my apparel. Your man took my valise;
in it are my dress-clothes--I shall not be ten minutes putting them on."

"Take a glass of wine first," I said, pouring out some of his favorite
Montepulciano. "There is plenty of time. It is barely seven, and we do
not dine till eight." He took the wine from my hand and smiled. I
returned the smile, adding, "It gives me great pleasure to receive you,
Ferrari! I have been impatient for your return--almost as impatient
as--" He paused in the act of drinking, and his eyes flashed
delightedly.

"As SHE has? Piccinina! How I long to see her again! I swear to you,
amico, I should have gone straight to the Villa Romani had I obeyed my
own impulse--but I had promised you to come here, and, on the whole,
the evening will do as well"--and he laughed with a covert meaning in
his laughter--"perhaps better!"

My hands clinched, but I said with forced gayety:

"Ma certamente! The evening will be much better! Is it not Byron who
says that women, like stars, look best at night? You will find her the
same as ever, perfectly well and perfectly charming. It must be her
pure and candid soul that makes her face so fair! It may be a relief to
your mind to know that I am the only man she has allowed to visit her
during your absence!"

"Thank God for that!" cried Ferrari, devoutly, as he tossed off his
wine. "And now tell me, my dear conte, what bacchanalians are coming
to-night? Per Dio, after all I am more in the humor for dinner than
love-making!"

I burst out laughing harshly. "Of course! Every sensible man prefers
good eating even to good women! Who are my guests you ask? I believe
you know them a