But I knew her too well to accept any such self-caricature as a true portrait, even without the help of all I had heard from Inez, from Barosa, and from the viscontesse. Was it too late now to win? It might be; but it certainly was not too late to make a big effort. And such an effort I would make at once. If she had compromised herself in this wretched conspiracy business so far as to be under the thumb of Barosa and his associates, her very safety demanded that I should strive with might and main to break the power they held over her and set her free from it. But my fear was that some other compelling influence was at work; and I looked to find it in her home. It was not the viscontesse, I was certain of her; but I knew very little yet of the visconte and nothing at all of the brother, Vasco, except that he was infatuated with Inez and was being properly fooled by her. I made my promised visit to the viscontesse on the following afternoon hoping to be able to resume the thread of the conversation at the reception. But no opportunity offered. She had some friends and I could not get a word with her alone; and Miralda did not come in until just as I was leaving. But I learnt something from the conversation. It concerned mainly the personal side of the political situation. Every one had a grievance against M. Franco, the Dictator. In his zeal for economy he had swept away a host of sinecure positions about the Court; and had thus made enemies not only of every one who had been paid for doing nothing and their friends and relatives, but also of all who had been looking forward to such payments. The visconte himself had held one of the best of these sinecures. He had been the royal cork-drawer or napkin ring-holder-in-chief, or something equally important, and the loss of the salary had been hotly resented. It sounded intensely ridiculous; but the viscontesse herself was full of indignation; and her friends all agreed and joined in abusing the Government with a violence which, although entirely laughable, proved how widespread was the discontent among those who had been staunch in their loyalty. It was on this feeling among the higher classes that Barosa was working on behalf of the Pretender, Dom Miguel. Just as I was leaving, the viscontesse found a moment to tell me she wished to have had more opportunity of talking to me, so I promptly asked her to come to luncheon on the _Stella_ the next day, and she was hesitating when Miralda came in. We were standing near the door and she joined us. She greeted me with just the same air of detached friendliness she had shown on the previous evening; but when her mother spoke of my invitation, she surprised me. “It will be delightful, and I should like it above all things--that is if the invitation is to include me, Mr. Donnington?” “Why, of course.” “And can we have a little run out to sea? I love the sea you know.”