It was close upon five, and Gustavo was in the court-yard feeding the parrot, when his eye fell upon the American guest scuffling down the road in a cloud of white dust. Gustavo hastened to the gate to welcome him back, his very eyebrows expressive of his eagerness for news. "You are returned, signore?" The young man paused and regarded him unemotionally. "Yes, Gustavo, I am returned--with thanks." "You have seen ze Signorina Costantina?" "Yes, I saw her." "And is it not as I have said, zat she is beautiful as ze holy angels?" "Yes, Gustavo, she is--and just about equally remote. You may make out my bill." The waiter's face clouded. "You do not wish to remain longer, signore?" "Can't stand it, Gustavo; it's too infernally restful." Poor Gustavo saw a munificent shower of tips vanishing into nothing. His face was rueful but his manner was undiminishingly polite. "_Si_, signore, sank you. When shall you wish ze omnibus?" "Tomorrow morning for the first boat." Gustavo bowed to the inevitable; and the young man passed on. He paused half way across the court-yard. "What time does the first boat leave?" "At half past five, signore." "Er--no--I'll take the second." "_Si_, signore. At half-past ten." CHAPTER III It was close upon ten when Jerymn Hilliard Jr., equipped for travel in proper blue serge, appeared in the doorway of the Hotel du Lac. He looked at his watch and discovered that he still had twenty minutes before the omnibus meeting the second boat was due. He strolled across the court-yard, paused for a moment to tease the parrot, and sauntered on to his favorite seat in the summer house. He had barely established himself with a cigarette when who should appear in the gateway but Miss Constance Wilder of Villa Rosa and a middle-aged man--at a glance the Signor Papa. Jerymn Hilliard's heart doubled its beat. Why, he asked himself excitedly, _why_ had they come? The Signor Papa closed his green umbrella, and having dropped into a chair--obligingly near the summer house--took off his hat and fanned himself. He had a tendency toward being stout and felt the heat. The girl, meanwhile, crossed the court and jangled the bell; she waited two--three--minutes, then she pulled the rope again. "Gustavo! Oh, Gustavo!" The bell might have been rung by any-one--the fisherman, the omnibus-driver, Suor Celestina from the convent asking her everlasting alms--and Gustavo took his time. But the voice was unmistakable; he waited only to throw a clean napkin over his arm before hurrying to answer. "_Buon giorno_, signorina! Good morning, signore. It is beautiful wea-thir, but warm. _Gia_, it is warm."