“Come, Mr. Obstinate, or we’ll have to undress you like a doll.”

She was bending over him; he could feel her breath upon his cheeks, and the touch of her delicate, agile hands; and a sense of delicious intoxication swept over him.

The fur coat was drawn snugly about his shoulders.  It was a rare garment; a cloak of blue fox as soft as silk, thick, yet light as the plumes of some fantastic bird.  Though Rafael passed for a tall man, its edges touched the floor.  The young man realized that thousands of francs had suddenly been thrown over his back, and tremblingly he gathered the bottom up, lest he should step upon it.

Leonora laughed at his embarrassment.

“Don’t be afraid; no matter if you do tread on it.  One would think you were wearing a sacred veil from the respect you show that coat.  It isn’t worth much.  I use it only to travel in.  A grandduke gave it to me in Saint Petersburg.”

And to show more clearly how little she prized the princely gift, she wrapped it closer around the boy, patting at his shoulders to fit it more tightly to him.

Slowly they walked back into the front room.  Meanwhile, the appearance of the barber, dressed in his luxuriant gown, was greeted with shouts of laughter in the dining-room.  Cupido was taking full advantage of the occasion.  The train in one hand and stroking his side-whiskers with the other, he was writhing about like a prima donna in her big scene and singing in a falsetto soprano voice.  The peasant family laughed like mad, forgetting the disaster that had overtaken their home; Beppa opened her eyes wide, surprised at the elegant figure of the man, and the grace with which he pronounced the Italian verses.  Even poor dona Pepa hitched around in her armchair and applauded.  The barber, according to her, was the most charming devil in the world.

Rafael was standing on the balcony, at Leonora’s side, his gaze lost in the darkness, his spirit lulled by the music of her sweet voice, his body snug and comfortable in that elegant garment which seemed to have retained something of the warmth and perfume of her shoulders.  With marks of very real interest, she was questioning him about the desperate trip down the river.

Rafael answered her inquiries with bated breath.

“What you have done,” the prima donna was saying, “deserves my deep, deep gratitude!  It is a chivalrous act worthy of ancient times.  Lohengrin, arriving in his little boat to save Elsa!  Only the swan is lacking ...unless you want to call Cupido a swan....”

“And suppose you had been carried off—­drowned!...” the youth exclaimed in justification of his rashness.