Nina was delighted, but she could not help being amused.  “You don’t know me in the least,” she laughed.  “I may be a perfectly horrid person.”

The contessa shrugged her shoulders.  “That is nothing to me.  No doubt I adore some very horrid persons!” Then impetuously she ran her arm through Nina’s as they walked through the long row of rooms to the one where their wraps were.  “I like you!” she repeated; “that is all there is to it!”

In the hall they were joined by the men, and started for the opera.

Here, Nina had an unusual opportunity to see Roman Society, as the house that night was brilliant with the people who were going afterwards to the Court Ball.  Donna Francesca Dobini, a celebrated beauty, was rather affectedly draped in a tulle arrangement around her shoulders.  The Contessa Olisco, who for the time being was forced to do without her cigarette, said to Nina: 

“Look at her, there she is!  She is ‘going off,’ so that she has to wrap tulle about her old neck to hide the wrinkles.”

She moved the column of her young throat with conscious triumph as she spoke.  A moment later, as though Nina would understand, she whispered:  “There is the Potensi!  No!  In the box opposite.  She has on a dress of purple velvet.  Sitting very straight, and quantities of diamonds.”

Nina put up her opera glass and encountered an insolent stare, as though the Contessa Potensi were purposely disdainful of the American girl.

“She is the same one with whom Don Giovanni danced opposite in the quadrille!  Heavens! but she is a disagreeable person!”

“She has reason for looking disagreeable,” announced the Contessa Zoya with a meaning laugh; but more she would not say.

Giovanni leaned over Nina’s chair.  “Do you find the Romans attractive?  How does our opera compare with that of New York?”

“The house seems made of cardboard,” Nina answered.  “I never thought our opera houses especially wonderful——­”

“No?” Giovanni rallied her.  “Is it possible that you have anything in America that is not the most wonderful in the world!  I am sure you will say your opera house is bigger!  And richer! and more comfortable!  Yes?  Of course it is!” He laughed.  “My apple is bigger than your apple.  My doll is bigger than your doll!  What children you are, you Americans!”

“If we are children,” retorted Nina, piqued by his laughter, “we must be granted the advantages of youth!”

With a sudden gravity, but none the less mockingly, Giovanni besought her for enlightenment.

“We gain in enthusiasm, energy, and honesty,” she announced sententiously.  “A country and a people never attain perfection of finish until they have begun to grow decadent.  I’d rather have my doll and my big apple than sit, like an old cynic, in the corner, watching the children play!”

She was immensely pleased with this speech,—­mentally she quite preened herself.  Giovanni looked amused, but the Contessa Potensi caught his glance from across the house, and his smile faded as he bowed.  Nina, who had good eyes, saw a complete change in her face as she returned his salutation.