y boy!" said Merrihew lightly. "I thought, by the way
you mooned here, that you had fallen asleep on your feet. Where's
Kitty?"

"Kitty? I forgot to ask, Dan," said Hillard dully.

CHAPTER XIX

TWO GENTLEMEN FROM VERONA

It was May in the Tuscany Hills; blue distances; a rolling horizon; a
sky rimmed like a broken cup; a shallow, winding river, gleaming
fitfully in the sun; a compact city in a valley, a city of red-tiled
roofs, of domes and towers and palaces, of ruined ivy-grown walls and
battlements; shades of Michelangelo and Dante and Machiavelli, the
Borgias and the Medicis: Florence, the city of flowers.

Upon a hill, perhaps three miles to the northeast of the city, stood the
ancient Etruscan town of Fiesole. The flat white road which passes
through the heart of the village leads into the mountains beyond. Here
one sees an occasional villa, surrounded by high walls of stone,
plastered in white or pink, half hidden in roses, great, bloomy,
sweet-scented roses, which of their quality and abundance rule the
kingdom of flowers, as Florence once ruled the kingdom of art and
learning.

The Villa Ariadne rested upon a small knoll half a mile or more north of
and above Fiesole, from which the panoramic beauty of Florence was to be
seen at all times, glistening in the sun, glowing in the rain, sparkling
in the night. A terrace reached to the very frontal walls, which were
twelve feet above the road. On the other side of the road swept down
abruptly a precipitous ravine, dangerous to careless riders. A small
stream dashed north, twisted, and joined the Mugnone, which in turn
emptied into the drab waters of the Arno.

The villa was white and cool in the shade of dark cypresses and beeches
and pink-blossomed horse-chestnuts. There were beds and gardens of
flowers, and behind the villa a forest spread out and upward to the very
top of the overshadowing mountain. The gates and the porter's lodge were
at that end of the confines nearest Fiesole. The old gardener and his
wife lived in the lodge, earning an extra lira now and then by escorting
tourists through the park and exhibiting the Della Robias, the Hadrian
mosaic, the fountain by Donatello, and some antique marbles, supposed to
have been restored by Michelangelo. He never permitted any one to touch
these glories. Periodically the agents of the government paid a visit to
ascertain that none of these treasures had been sold or removed. The old
gardener spoke