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.