"What a wonderful old place it is! That curious facade, with the dials and its layers of black and white marble soaked golden-red in a hundred thousand sunsets! That exquisite grand portal!" He gesticulated with the hand that the tea-cup left free, to suggest form and measurement as artists do. "Then the inside! The great Cimabue, with all that famous history on its back--the first divine Madonna by the first divine master, carried through the streets in a triumph of art and religion! Those frescoes of Ghirlandajo's with real Florentine faces and figures in them, and all lavished upon the eternal twilight of that choir--but I suppose that if the full day were let in on them, once, they would vanish like ghosts at cock-crow! You must be sure to see the Spanish chapel; and the old cloister itself is such a pathetic place. There's a boys' school, as well as a military college, in the suppressed convent now, and the colonnades were full of boys running and screaming and laughing and making a joyful racket; it was so much more sorrowful than silence would have been there. One of the little scamps came up to me, and the young monk that was showing me round, and bobbed us a mocking bow and bobbed his hat off; then they all burst out laughing again and raced away, and the monk looked after them and said, so sweetly and wearily, 'They're at their diversions: we must have patience.' There are only twelve monks left there; all the rest are scattered and gone." He gave his cup to Miss Graham for more tea. "Don't you think," she asked, drawing it from the samovar, "that it is very sad having the convents suppressed?" "It was very sad having slavery abolished--for some people," suggested Colville; he felt the unfairness of the point he had made. "Yes," sighed Miss Graham. Colville stood stirring his second cup of tea, when the _portiere_ parted, and showed Mrs. Bowen wistfully pausing on the threshold. Her face was pale, but she looked extremely pretty there. "Ah, come in, Mrs. Bowen!" he called gaily to her. "I won't give you away to the other people. A cup of tea will do you good." "Oh, I'm a great deal better," said Mrs. Bowen, coming forward to give him her hand. "I heard your voice, and I couldn't resist looking in." "That was very kind of you," said Colville gratefully: and her eyes met his in a glance that flushed her face a deep red. "You find me here--_I_ don't know why!--in my character of old family friend, doing my best to make life a burden to the young ladies." "I wish you would stay to a family dinner with us," said Mrs. Bowen, and Miss Graham brightened in cordial support of the hospitality. "Why can't you?" "I don't know, unless it's because I'm a humane person, and have some consideration for your headache." "Oh, that's all gone," said Mrs. Bowen. "It was one of those convenient headaches--if you ever had them, you'd know--that go off at sunset." "But you'd have another to-morrow."