ays
she."

"And what did Mr. Rossi say?"

"'A woman's love is the sweetest thing in the world,' he said; 'but if I
found myself caring too much for anybody I should run away.'"

"Did Mr. Rossi really say that, Bruno?"

"He did--upon my life he did!"

Bruno had the air of a man who had achieved a moral victory, and Roma,
whose eyes were dancing with delight, wanted to fall on his stupid,
sulky face and kiss and kiss it.

During the afternoon of the day following, the Princess Bellini came in
with Don Camillo. "Here's Gi-gi!" she cried. "He comes to say there's to
be a meet of the foxhounds on the Campagna to-morrow. If you'd like to
come I'll take you, and if you think Mr. Rossi will come too...."

"If he rides and has time to spare," said Roma.

"Precisely," said Don Camillo. "The worst of being a prophet is that it
gives one so much trouble to agree with one's self, you know. Rumour
says that our illustrious Deputy has been a little out of odour with his
own people lately, and is now calling a meeting to tell the world what
his 'Creed and Charter' doesn't mean. Still a flight into the country
might do no harm even to the stormy petrel of politics, and if any one
could prevail with him...."

"Leave that to Roma, and see to everything else yourself," said the
Princess. "On the way to that tiresome tea-room in the Corso, my dear.
'Charity and Work,' you know. Committee for the protection of poor
girls, or something. But we must see the old aunt first, I suppose. Come
in, Gi-gi!"

Three minutes afterwards Roma was dressed for the street, and her dog
was leaping and barking beside her.

"Carriage, Eccellenza?"

"Not to-day, thank you! Down, Black, down! Keep the dog from following
me, Felice."

As she passed the lodge the porter handed her an envelope bearing the
seal of the Minister, but she did not stop to open it. With a light step
she tripped along the street, hailed a _coupe_, cried "Piazza Navona,"
and then composed herself to read her letter.

When the Princess and Don Camillo came out of the Countess's room Roma
was gone, and the dog was scratching at the inside of the outer door.

"Now where can she have gone to so suddenly, I wonder? And there's her
poor dog trying to follow her!"

"Is that the dog that goes to the Deputy's apartment?"

"Certainly it is! His name is Black. I'll hold him while you open the
door, Felice. There! Good dog! Good Black! Oh, the brute, he has broken
away from me."