Roma made a cry of joy and leapt out of bed. All day long that telegram

was like wings under her heels and made her walk with an elastic step.

While taking her coffee she remembered the responsibilities she had

undertaken the day before--for the boy's funeral and Bruno's

maintenance--and for the first time in her life she began to consider

ways and means. Her ready money was getting low, and it was necessary to

do something.

Then Felice came with a sheaf of papers. They were tradesmen's bills and

required immediate payment. Some of the men were below and refused to go

away without the cash.

There was no help for it. She opened her purse, discharged her debts,

swept her debtors out of the house, and sat down to count what remained.

Very little remained. But what matter? The five words of that telegram

were five bright stars which could light up a darker sky than had fallen

on her yet.

In this high mood she went down to the studio--silent now in the absence

of the humorous voice that usually rang in it, and with Bruno's chisels

and mallet lying idle, with his sack on a block of half-hewn marble.

Uncovering her fountain, she looked at it again. It was good work; she

knew it was good; she could be certain it was good. It should justify

her yet, and some day the stupid people who were sheering away from her

now would come cringing to her feet afresh.

That suggested thoughts of the Mayor. She would write to him and get

some money with which to meet the expenses of yesterday as well as the

obligations which she might perhaps incur to-day or in the future.

"Dear Senator Palomba," she wrote, "no doubt you have often wondered why

your much-valued commission has not been completed before. The fact is

that it suffered a slight accident a few days ago, but a week or a

fortnight ought to see it finished, and if you wish to make arrangements

for its reception you may count on its delivery in that time. Meantime

as I am pressed for funds at the moment, I shall be glad if you can

instruct your treasurer at the Municipality to let me have something on

account. The price mentioned, you remember, was 15,000 francs, and as I

have not had anything hitherto, I trust it may not be unreasonable to

ask for half now, leaving the remainder until the fountain is in its

place."

Having despatched this challenge by Felice, not only to the Mayor, but

also to herself, her pride, her poverty, and to the great world

generally, she put on her cloak and hat and drove down to the Castle of

St. Angelo.




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