“Signore,” said he, rolling in his gutturals, “it is my duty to very much thank you.  You will now, if you please, me the honour do, me to your all-the-talents-possible-possessing relation to present.”  Nino had foreseen the contingency and disappeared into the dark.  Presently he returned.

“I am so sorry, Signor Conte,” he said.  “The sacristan tells me that when my cousin had finished he hurried away, saying he was afraid of taking some ill if he remained here where it is so damp.  I will tell him how much you appreciated him.”

“Curious is it,” remarked the count.  “I heard him not going off.”

“He stood in the doorway of the sacristy, by the high altar, Signor Conte.”

“In that case is it different.”

“I am sorry,” said Nino.  “The signorina was so unkind as to say, lately, that we Italians have no sense of the beautiful, the mysterious—­”

“I take it back,” said Hedwig, gravely, still standing in the moonlight.  “Your cousin has a very great power over the beautiful.”

“And the mysterious,” added the baroness, who had not spoken, “for his departure without showing himself has left me the impression of a sweet dream.  Give me your arm, Professore Cardegna.  I will not stay here any longer, now that the dream is over.”  Nino sprang to her side politely, though, to tell the truth, she did not attract him at first sight.  He freed one arm from the old cloak, and reflected that she could not tell in the dark how very shabby it was.

“You give lessons to the Signora von Lira?” she asked, leading him quickly away from the party.

“Yes—­in Italian literature, signora.”

“Ah—­she tells me great things of you.  Could you not spare me an hour or two in the week, professore?”

Here was a new complication.  Nino had certainly not contemplated setting up for an Italian teacher to all the world when he undertook to give lessons to Hedwig.

“Signora—­” he began, in a protesting voice.

“You will do it to oblige me, I am sure,” she said, eagerly, and her slight hand just pressed upon his arm a little.  Nino had found time to reflect that this lady was intimate with Hedwig, and that he might possibly gain an opportunity of seeing the girl he loved if he accepted the offer.

“Whenever it pleases you, signora,” he said at length.

“Can you come to me to-morrow at eleven?” she asked.

“At twelve, if you please, signora, or half past.  Eleven is the contessina’s hour to-morrow.”

“At half-past twelve, then, to-morrow,” said she, and she gave him her address, as they went out into the street.  “Stop,” she added, “where do you live?”

“Number twenty-seven Santa Catarina dei Funari,” he answered, wondering why she asked.  The rest of the party came out, and Nino bowed to the ground, as he bid the contessina good-night.

He was glad to be free of that pressure on his arm, and he was glad to be alone, to wander through the streets under the moonlight, and to think over what he had done.