The Cardinal smiled at his ring. He opened his snuffbox, and

inhaled a long deliberate pinch of snuff.

"Ah, well--who can tell?" he said. "But--he will be free now,

and it is so long since he has been at the castle--had you not

better ask him to luncheon or dinner?"

"Why should I?" answered Beatrice. "If he does not come to

Ventirose, it is presumably because he does not care to come.

If he does care to come, he needs no invitation. He knows that

he is at liberty to call whenever he likes."

"But it would be civil, it would be neighbourly, to ask him to

a meal," the Cardinal submitted.

"And it would put him in the embarrassing predicament of having

either to accept against his will, or to decline and appear

ungracious," submitted Beatrice. "No, it is evident that

Ventirose does not amuse him."

"Bene," said the Cardinal. "Be it as you wish."

But when they reached Villa Floriano, Peter was not at home.

"He has gone to Spiaggia for the day," Emilia informed them.

Beatrice, the Cardinal fancied, looked at once relieved and

disappointed.

Marietta was seated in the sun, in a sheltered corner of the

garden.

While Beatrice talked with her, the Cardinal walked about.

Now it so happened that on Peter's rustic table a book lay

open, face downwards.

The Cardinal saw the book. He halted in his walk, and glanced

round the garden, as if to make sure that he was not observed.

He tapped his snuff--box, and took a pinch of snuff. Then he

appeared to meditate for an instant, the lines about his mouth

becoming very marked indeed. At last, swiftly, stealthily,

almost with the air of a man committing felony, he slipped

his snuff-box under the open book, well under it, so that it

was completely covered up.

On the way back to Ventirose, the Cardinal put his hand in his

pocket.

"Dear me!" he suddenly exclaimed. "I have lost my snuff box

again." He shook his head, as one who recognises a fatality.

"I am always losing it."

"Are you sure you had it with you?" Beatrice asked.

"Oh, yes, I think I had it with me. I should have missed it

before this, if I had left it at home. I must have dropped it

in Mr. Marchdale's garden."

"In that case it will probably be found," said Beatrice.

Peter had gone to Spiaggia, I imagine, in the hope of meeting

Mrs. O'Donovan Florence; but the printed visitors' list there

told him that she had left nearly a fortnight since. On his

return to the villa, he was greeted by Marietta with the proud

tidings that her Excellency the Duchessa di Santangiolo had

been to see her.




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