with a woman, especially with this Italian."

Paul interrupted me. "Yes, with an Italian who looks more like a dancer
than a duchess. However, that is no business of mine. Do just as you
please."

I was in a state of perplexity. I had written to the City of Paris to
retain our rooms, and now I did not know what to do.

Two commissionaires followed us with our luggage. I continued: "You might
as well go on first, and say that we are coming; and give the landlord to
understand that I have a--a friend with me and that we should like
rooms quite by themselves for us three, so as not to be brought in
contact with other travellers. He will understand, and we will decide
according to his answer."

But Paul growled, "Thank you, such commissions and such parts do not suit
me, by any means. I did not come here to select your apartments or to
minister to your pleasures."

But I was urgent: "Look here, don't be angry. It is surely far better to
go to a good hotel than to a bad one, and it is not difficult to ask the
landlord for three separate bedrooms and a dining-room."

I put a stress on three, and that decided him.

He went on first, and I saw him go into a large hotel while I remained on
the other side of the street, with my fair Italian, who did not say a
word, and followed the porters with the luggage.

Paul came back at last, looking as dissatisfied as my companion.

"That is settled," he said, "and they will take us in; but here are only
two bedrooms. You must settle it as you can."

I followed him, rather ashamed of going in with such a strange companion.

There were two bedrooms separated by a small sitting-room. I ordered a
cold supper, and then I turned to the Italian with a perplexed look.

"We have only been able to get two rooms, so you must choose which you
like."

She replied with her eternal "Che mi fa!" I thereupon took up her little
black wooden trunk, such as servants use, and took it into the room on
the right, which I had chosen for her. A bit of paper was fastened to the
box, on which was written, Mademoiselle Francesca Rondoli, Genoa.

"Your name is Francesca?" I asked, and she nodded her head, without
replying.

"We shall have supper directly," I continued. "Meanwhile, I dare say you
would like to arrange your toilette a little?"

She answered with a 'mica', a word which she employed just as frequently
as 'Che me fa', but I went on: "It is always pleasant after a journey."

Then I sudd