“I had already thought of that,” snapped the poet, sharply.

“Of course you had,” said the obsequious little man.  “An impromptu, by all means!  You could have it ready to present to her at the theatre to-morrow.”

“Unless the Marchese thinks fit to present me to the lady presently, I shall decline to write anything at all,” rejoined Signor Leandro, thus unjustly determining, in his ill-humour, to punish all Ravenna for the fault of one single individual.

The Diva was, in the meantime, winning golden opinions on all sides.  She had bright smiles, and pretty captivating looks, and courteous, prettily-turned phrases for all.  But amid all this she contrived unfailingly all the time, by means of some exquisitely subtle nuance of manner, to impress every person present with the unconsciously-conceived feeling that there was something more between her and the Marchese and his nephew than between her and anybody else in the room; that she in some sort belonged to them, and was being presented to the society under their auspices.  She remained close by the side of the Marchese.  She would look with an appealing and inquiring glance into his face at each fresh introduction that was made to her, as if to ask his sanction and approval.  She had some little word from time to time either for his ear, or that of his nephew, spoken in such a manner as to reach those of nobody else; while, gracious to all, she delicately but markedly graduated the scale of her graciousness towards those who were introduced to her, according to the degree of intimacy which seemed to exist between them and the Marchese.  The result was that the Marchese, without having been in the least conscious by what means and steps it had been brought about, felt, by the time the gathering was at an end, a sort of sense of proprietorship in the brilliant and lovely artiste;—­it was so evidently he who was presenting her to the city!  She herself so evidently felt that it would become her to rule her conduct in all respects at Ravenna according to the Marchese’s wishes and ideas, and there was so sweet and so subtle a flattery in the way in which she made this felt, that when, after all the crowd had retired, and she was about to take leave of the Marchese to go to the lodging that had been prepared for her, she ventured to take his hand between both hers, while looking up into his face to thank him, in a voice quivering with emotion, for his kindness to her, there passed a something into the system of the Marchese from that contact of the palms that he found it very difficult to rid himself of.

BOOK III

“Sirenum Pocula”

CHAPTER I

“Diva Potens”