“Rather well.”

“As—­better than I can?”

“You must judge for yourself when you hear her.”

“You might tell me.  But no!  I don’t want you to, now.  It’s spoiled.  Good-night.”

“Good-night.  Dream of your conquest.”

“Probably she’s only trying to—­to bring you to the point, by being nice to me.  I wonder if you care?”

I would not give the little wretch any satisfaction.  I merely laughed, and an odd blue light flashed in his eyes.  He was making up his mind to something, for the life of me I could not tell what.

The Contessa and her satellites should have gone on to Chamounix next day, but Gaeta frankly announced her intention of waiting, so that we might make the journey together.  They were driving over the Tete Noire, and we would go afoot, to be sure; still, said she, we could keep more or less together, exchanging impressions from time to time, and lunching at the same place.  She made me promise, as a reward to her for this delay, that the Boy and I would not take the way of the Col de Balme, by which no carriage could pass.  If we did this, our party and hers must part company early in the day, and she would be left to the tender mercies of the Baron and Baronessa for many a triste hour.

“But why should you be imposed upon by them, if they don’t amuse you?” I ventured to ask; for Gaeta was so frank about her affairs that one was sometimes led inadvertently to take liberties.

“Oh, it was the brother who amused me, and he amuses me still,” replied she, with a moue, and a shrug of her pretty shoulders.  “At least, I don’t think I shall be tired of him, when I see him again.  He is a whirlwind; he carries a woman off her feet, before she knows what is happening, and we like that in a man, we Italians.  We adore temperament.  I was nice to the Baron and Baronessa for Paolo’s sake.  He had to go away from Milan, which is my real home, you know—­(if I have a home anywhere)—­to have a medal for his air-ship, and many honours and dinners given him in Paris; so, without stopping to think, I invited the Baron and Baronessa to visit me in Aix.  Then they suggested that we should have a little tour first; and we are having it—­Dio mio, so much the worse for me, till I met you!  And now they make me feel like a naughty child.”

“Will Paolo come also to the villa?” I asked, smiling.

“He has engagements to last a fortnight still.  Perhaps afterwards he may run out to Aix.”

The Boy’s face fell when I told him that I had promised the Contessa to walk along the highroad, over the Tete Noire.

“Innocentina and I——­” he began.  Then his eyes wandered to Gaeta, who stood with her friends at the other end of the hail.  She was looking extremely pretty, and chose that instant to throw a quick glance at me, demanding sympathy for some ennui or other caused by the Baronessa.  “Oh, very well,” he finished, “it doesn’t matter.”