Sabina had the delightful sensation of doing something she ought not to do, but which was perfectly innocent; she had moreover the rarer pleasure, quite new to her, of committing the little social misdeed in the company of the first man she had ever liked in her life.  She knew very well that old Sassi would not be able to reach the inner chamber of the excavation, and she inwardly hoped that Malipieri’s servant would discreetly wait outside of it, so that she might be alone with Malipieri when she first set eyes on the wonderful statue.  It was amusing to think how the nuns would have scolded her for the mere wish, and how her pious sister would have condemned her to eternal flames for entertaining the temptation.

Malipieri had told her to put on an old frock, as she might spoil her clothes in spite of the efforts he had made to enlarge and smooth the way for her to pass.  Her mother had a way of calling everything old which she had possessed three months, and for once Sabina was of her mother’s opinion.  She had a very smart cloth costume, with a rather short skirt, which had come home in February, and which she had worn only four times because the spring had been warm.  It was undoubtedly “old” for she could not wear it in summer, and next winter the fashion would change; and it had rained all the morning, so that the air was damp and cold.  Besides, the costume fitted her slender figure to perfection—­it was such a pity that it was old already, for she might never have another as smart.  The least she could do was to try and wear it out when she had the chance.  It was of a delicate fawn colour; it had no pocket and it was fastened in a mysterious way.  The skirt was particularly successful, and, as has been said, it was short, which was a great advantage in scrambling about a damp cellar.  In order to show that she was in earnest, she put on russet leather shoes.  Her hat was large, because that was the fashion, but nothing could have been simpler; it matched the frock in colour, and no colour was so becoming to her clear girlish pallor and misty hair as light fawn.

Malipieri had carried out his intention of getting rid of the porter, and was waiting inside the open postern when the cab drove up.  Hitherto he had only seen Sabina indoors, at luncheon and in the evening, and when he saw her now he received an altogether new impression.  Somehow, in her walking dress, she seemed more womanly, more “grown up” as she herself would have called it.  As she got out of the wretched little cab, and came forward to greet him, her grace stirred his blood.  It was final; he was in love.

Her intuition told her the truth, of course.  There was something in his look and voice which had not quite been in either on the previous evening.  He had been glad, last night, because she had come to the drawing-room, as he had hoped that she would; but to-day he was more than glad, he was happy, merely because he saw her.  There never was a woman yet that could not tell that difference at a glance.