tered she tried to burst out on her in a torrent of wrath. But the
sound that came from her throat was like a voice shouted on a windy
headland, and hardly louder than the muffled voices of the auctioneers
as they found their way through the walls.

Roma sat down on the stool by the bedside, stroked the cat with the
gold cross suspended from its neck, and listened to the words within the
room and without as they fell on her ear alternately.

"Roma, you are treating me shamefully. While I am lying here helpless
you are having an auction--actually an auction--at the door of my very
room."

"Camera da letto della Signorina! Bed in _noce_, richly ornamented with
fruit and flowers." "Shall I say fifty?" "Thank you, fifty." "Fifty."
"Fifty-five." "Fifty-five." "No advance on fifty-five?" "Gentlemen,
gentlemen! The beautiful bed of a beautiful lady, and only fifty-five
offered for it!..."

"If you wanted money you had only to ask the Baron, and if you didn't
wish to do that, you had only to sign a bill at six months, as I told
you before. But no! You wanted to humble and degrade me. That's all it
is. You've done it, too, and I'm dying in disgrace...."

"Secretaire in walnut! Think, ladies, of the secrets this writing-desk
might whisper if it would! How much shall I say?" "Sixty lire." "Sixty."
"Sixty-five." "Sixty-five." "Writing-desk in walnut with the love
letters hardly out of it, and only sixty-five lire offered!..."

"This is what comes of a girl going her own way. Society is not so very
exacting, but it revenges itself on people who defy the
respectabilities. And quite right, too! Pity they could not be the only
ones to suffer, but they can't. Their friends and relations are the real
sufferers; and as for me...."

The Countess's voice broke down into a maudlin whimper. Without a word
Roma rose up to go. As she did so she met Natalina coming into the room
with the usual morning plate of forced strawberries. They had cost four
francs the pound.

Some time afterwards, from her writing-table in the boudoir-bedroom,
Roma heard a shuffling of feet on the circular iron stairs. The people
were going down to the studio. Presently the auctioneer's voice came up
as from a vault.

"And now what am I offered for this large and important work of modern
art?"

There was a ripple of derisive laughter.

"A fountain worthy, when finished, to rank with the masterpieces of
ancient Rome."

More derisive laughter.

"Now is t