in the house at the time, and you were there too?"

"Yes."

"You were at the theatre the night before and everyone noticed that he
paid you great attention?"

"He? Oh," cried Olive, "how horrible, and how clever!"

The hard grey eyes met hers for a moment.

The girl's pale face was flushed now with shame and anger. "So clever!
Will you congratulate the Prince for me, Marchesa?" she said very
distinctly.

"You are impertinent. Of course, I cannot keep you. My daughter--"

The Marchesa saw her mistake as she made it and would have passed on,
but Olive was too quick for her. She smiled. "Your daughter! I do not
think I can have harmed her."

"You can take your money; I have left it there for you on the bureau.
Please pack your boxes and be off as soon as possible."

"I am to leave to-night? It is dark already, and I have no friends in
Florence."

The Marchesa shrugged her shoulders. "I can't help that," she said.

Olive went slowly out into the hall, and stood there hesitating at the
head of the stairs. She scarcely knew what to do or where to turn, but
she was determined not to stay longer than she could help under this
roof. She went down to the porter's lodge in the paved middle court.

"Gigia!"

The old woman came hobbling out to greet her with a toothless smile.
"Ah, _bella signorina_, there are no more letters for you to-night.
Have you come to talk to me for a little?"

"I am going away," the girl answered hurriedly. "Will your husband
come in to fetch my luggage soon? At eight o'clock?"

Gigia laid a skinny hand on Olive's arm, and her sharp old eyes
blinked anxiously as she said, "Where are you going, _nina mia_?"

"I don't know."

"Not to the Prince?"

"Good heavens! No!"

"Ah, the _padrona_ is hard--and you are pretty. I thought it might be
that, perhaps. Don Filippo is like his old wolf of a father, and young
lambs should beware of him."

"Can you tell me of some quiet, decent rooms where I can go to night?"

"_Sicuro!_ My husband's brother keeps the Aquila Verde, and you can go
there. Giovanni will give you his best room if he hears that you come
from us, and he will not charge too much. I am sorry you are going,
_cara_."

Olive squeezed her hand. "Thank you, Gigia. You are the only one I am
sorry to say good-bye to. I shall not forget you."

The Marchese was coming down the stairs as Olive went up again. He
smiled at her as he stood aside to let her pass. "You are late, are
you