t had not yet decided
whether to write in Russian or French; she supposed he had wanted her
advice, but he did not wait for it, or seem to expect it. He was very
much in earnest, while he fanned her, and his earnestness amused her as
much as the American's irony. He asked which city of America she came
from, and when she said none, he asked which part of America. She
answered New England, and he said, "Oh, yes, that is where they have the
conscience." She did not know what he meant, and he put before her the
ideal of New England girlhood which he had evolved from reading American
novels. "Are you like that?" he demanded.

She laughed, and said, "Not a bit," and asked him if he had ever met
such an American girl, and he said, frankly, No; the American girls were
all mercenary, and cared for nothing but money, or marrying titles. He
added that he had a title, but he would not wear it.

Clementina said she did not believe she cared for titles, and then
he said, "But you care for money." She denied it, but as if she had
confessed it, he went on: "The only American that I have seen with that
conscience was a man. I will tell you of him, if you wish."

He did not wait for her answer. "It was in Naples--at Pompeii. I saw
at the first glance that he was different from other Americans, and I
resolved to know him. He was there in company with a stupid boy, whose
tutor he was; and he told me that he was studying to be a minister of
the Protestant church. Next year he will go home to be consecrated. He
promised to pass through Florence in the spring, and he will keep
his word. Every act, every word, every thought of his is regulated by
conscience. It is terrible, but it is beautiful." All the time, the
Russian was fanning Clementina, with every outward appearance of
flirtation. "Will you dance again? No? I should like to draw such a
character as his in a romance."

XXII.

It was six o'clock in the morning before Miss Milray sent Clementina
home in her carriage. She would have kept her to breakfast, but
Clementina said she ought to go on Mrs. Lander's account, and she wished
to go on her own.

She thought she would steal to bed without waking her, but she was
stopped by the sound of groans when she entered their apartment; the
light gushed from Mrs. Lander's door. Maddalena came out, and blessed
the name of her Latin deity (so much more familiar and approachable than
the Anglo-Saxon divinity) that Clementina had come at