After the concert had prolonged itself through some dozen pieces-- "You must invite them to enter," whispered Clotilde, presumably versed in the ceremonial of such adventures, "and offer them something for their tired throats, a little wine...." "Oh, you think we ought...?" "But yes, it would be courtesy." "Go you, then, Clotilde, and show them in and order up the wine. We'll be down in a minute." As they entered the dining-room, Clotilde burst into a peal of delighted laughter at the well-managed surprise, while Italo hastened forward to take Aurora's hand and bow over it half way to the floor. It was within Aurora's breast as if in the dark one had clasped as she thought a sweetheart, to find when the light came that her arms were entwined around the dancing-master, or the tailor. But only for an instant. She was really touched and charmed. She became more and more eloquent in expressing delight. The singers were presented to her individually, dark-eyed and smiling young Italians of the people, who knew no language but their own Florentine and spoke to Aurora in that, not expecting to be understood or to understand, except through smiles. Clotilde, busy, bustling, poured for them wine which she knew to be excellent, and there was a bright half hour for all. Italo wore an air relating him to all the successful heroes that have been, to Cæsar as well as to Paganini, who also had a great nose. To manage a thing well in small justifies pride, giving earnest as it does that a large thing, such as a siege, or a symphony, would by the same capacity be managed equally well. Italo that night carried his head like one who respects the size of his nose. He was quick, he was witty, he was amiable. He had about him something a little splendid, even, due to his feeling of having been splendid--or nothing--in his tribute to the patroness from whose horn of plenty so much had overflowed into his hands. Aurora beckoned Clotilde aside to say in her ear, "Will you run upstairs like a good girl and get my porte-monnaie?... Would it be all right, do you think?" Clotilde made the face and gesture of one in doubt, and if anything averse, but not insuperably. The bounty of royalty, or of rich Americans, is not felt as alms. "Go, then," whispered Aurora, "and get the purse that you'll find under some silk stockings in my second drawer, the little purse with gold in it."