about his ears at the
touch of reality. In Elena's eyes there had been no sign of that special
greeting to which he had so ardently looked forward; she had in no wise
singled him out from the crowd, had offered him no mark of favour. Why
not? He felt himself slighted, humiliated. All these fatuous people
irritated him, he was exasperated by the things which seemed to engross
Elena's attention, and more particularly by Filippo del Monte, who
leaned towards her every now and then to whisper something to
her--scandal no doubt. The Marchesa d'Ateleta now arrived, cheerful as
ever. Her laugh, out of the centre of the circle of men who hastened to
surround her, caused Don Filippo to turn round.

'Ah--so the trinity is complete!' he exclaimed, rising from his seat.

Andrea instantly slipped into it at Elena Muti's side. As the subtle
perfume of the violets reached him, he murmured--

'These are not those of last night, are they?'

'No,' she answered coldly.

In all her varying moods, changeful and caressing as the waves of the
sea, there always lay a hidden menace of rebuff. She was often taken
with fits of cold restraint. Andrea held his tongue, bewildered.

'Make your bids, gentlemen,' cried the auctioneer.

The bids rose higher. Antonio del Pollajuolo's silver helmet was being
hotly contested. Even the Cavaliere Davila entered the lists. The very
air seemed gradually to become hotter; the feverish desire to possess so
beautiful an object seemed to spread like a contagion.

In that year the craze for _bibelots_ and _bric-a-brac_ reached the
point of madness. The drawing-rooms of the nobility and the upper middle
classes were crammed with curios; every lady must needs cover the
cushions of her sofas and chairs with some piece of church vestment, and
put her roses into an Umbrian ointment pot, or a chalcedony jar. The
sale-rooms were the favourite meeting-places, and every sale crowded. It
was the fashion for the ladies when they dropped in anywhere for tea in
the afternoon, to enter with some such remark as--'I have just come from
the sale of the painter Campos' things. Tremendous bidding! Such
Hispano-Moresque plaques! I secured a jewel belonging to Maria
Leczinska. Look!'

The bidding continued. Fashionable purchasers crowded round the table,
vieing with each other in artistic and critical comparisons between the
Giottoesque Nativities and Annunciations. Into this atmosphere of
mustiness and antiquity the ladies b