Then, aghast at what she had done, she stood as if turned to stone, not daring to go to the window to see what the effect of her novel proceeding might have been.

Minutes, to her ages, passed:  then came a ring at the bell.  Answer she must; the maid was out marketing, her mother in tears—­for it might be the post—­it might be—!  Ah, she shivered as she thought thereon—­it might be a municipal guard with a “contravenzione”—­fine; for in Italy one cannot now fling even saints from a window down upon the passers’ heads with impunity.  Time was when worse things were periodically showered down upon passengers, but, thanks to government and wholesome laws, nous avons change tout cela.

With a beating heart Guiseppina drew the bolt and opened the door.  There on the landing stood, not a policeman, but an elderly gentleman, his hat in one hand, Saint Antonio in the other, and his bald head looming out from the gloom—­some Turin stairs are very dark—­like the moon in a fog.

“Signora”—­he began in a hesitating voice, and holding forward the imperturbable Saint as a shield and excuse for his intrusion—­

“Signore,” replied the ancient maiden, gazing forth at her visitor with wonder on her face and relief in her heart.

The relief fled quickly, however, for she suddenly remembered that many of the police were said to prowl about in civil clothes and inflict no end of fines, of which they pocketed a part.

But he didn’t look a bit like a policeman.  So she smiled upon him, and listened benignantly to his tale.  He had been passing the house—­musing upon his business—­that of a broker—­and trying to guess at the truth of a report relative to certain investments, when suddenly his calculations had been put to flight by the arrival of some unseen object from on high, which, after alighting upon the crown of his Panama, fell at his feet.

Here a wave of his hand and a flourish of the Saint indicated his having picked up the same.

He then proceeded to relate his having looked up—­the Saint could only have come from Heavenward, he had perched so exactly upon the crown of his hat—­having seen the open window—­all the rest in the house were closed—­and having taken the liberty—­

Here another wave of the hand, followed by a bow.

And then, at this juncture, Signora Pace came out from her room, and she, after being informed of the cause of her daughter’s being found in close converse upon the landing with a stranger of the male sex, asked the said stranger in.  Her invitation being accepted, the trio adjourned to the sitting-room, the gallant knight still retaining his trophy.

Only after being warmly pressed to do so by Signora Pace did the all-unexpected and unknown visitor deposit Saint Antonio upon the centre table, and take his seat upon the red rep sofa next to her.

Guiseppina sat facing him.  She seemed suddenly to have quite changed—­never once snubbed her mother, and appeared throughout all sugar and sweetness.