“Oh, very exclusive,” said Mr. French.  “That is one of the charms.  Venice is really altogether exclusive.  It excludes the world, really, and defies time and modern movement.  Yes, in spite of the steamers on the canal, and the tourists.”

“That is so.  That is so.  Venice is a strange back-water.  And the old families are very proud still, in these democratic days.  They have a great opinion of themselves, I am told.”

“Well,” said Mr. French.  “Perhaps you know the rhyme: 

“‘Veneziano gran’ Signore
Padovano buon’ dotore. 
Vicenzese mangia il gatto
Veronese tutto matto—–­’”

“How very amusing!” said Miss Wade. “Veneziana gran’ Signore.  The Venetian is a great gentleman!  Yes, I know they are all convinced of it.  Really, how very amusing, in these advanced days.  To be born a Venetian, is to be born a great gentleman!  But this outdoes divine right of king.”

“To be born a Venetian GENTLEMAN, is to be born a great gentleman,” said Mr. French, rather fussily.

“You seriously think so?” said Miss Wade.  “Well now, what do you base your opinion on?”

Mr. French gave various bases for his opinion.

“Yes—­interesting.  Very interesting.  Rather like the Byzantines—­ lingering on into far other ages.  Anna Comnena always charmed me very much.  HOW she despised the flower of the north—­even Tancred!  And so the lingering Venetian families!  And you, in your palazzo on the Grand Canal:  you are a northern barbarian civilised into the old Venetian Signoria.  But how very romantic a situation!”

It was really amusing to see the old maid, how she skirmished and hit out gaily, like an old jaunty free lance:  and to see the old bachelor, how prim he was, and nervy and fussy and precious, like an old maid.

But need we say that Mr. Aaron felt very much out of it.  He sat and listened, with a sardonic small smile on his face and a sardonic gleam in his blue eyes, that looked so very blue on such an occasion.  He made the two elderly people uncomfortable with his silence:  his democratic silence, Miss Wade might have said.

However, Miss Wade lived out towards Galuzzo, so she rose early, to catch her tram.  And Mr. French gallantly and properly rose to accompany her, to see her safe on board.  Which left Aaron and the Marchesa alone.

“What time is Manfredi coming back?” said he.

“Tomorrow,” replied she.

There was a pause.

“Why do you have those people?” he asked.

“Who?”

“Those two who were here this evening.”

“Miss Wade and Mr. French?—­Oh, I like Miss Wade so very much.  She is so refreshing.”

“Those old people,” said Aaron.  “They licked the sugar off the pill, and go on as if everything was toffee.  And we’ve got to swallow the pill.  It’s easy to be refreshing—–­”