As she went out she put a small coin in the friar's yellow palm, and, from the manner in which he thrust the money into his pocket and looked at the donor, she perceived that he had still some life in him, this little yellow skeleton of a friar! Then she went out, hurrying from the sepulchre-guarded portico, thirsting for the sun, for noise, and for immensity. PART III CHAPTER I On Christmas Eve (Old Style) Regina and Antonio went to the Princess's reception. They were accompanied by a little blonde lady, modestly attired in black. It was Gabrie, the Master's daughter, who had realised her dream of finishing her studies in Rome at the _Scuola di Magistero_. For two months, courageously and quietly, she had lived on study and privation in a garret of Via San Lorenzo, in the family of a strolling musician, who had once been an organist near her home. The Venutellis had offered her hospitality, but she had refused it, contenting herself with visiting at their house and allowing them occasionally to take her to the theatre. To-night, chiefly out of curiosity, she had condescended to go with them to Madame Makuline's. She wanted to see a rich lady close, that she might excite the envy of her puffed-up young friend at Sabbioneta. Innocently, or sarcastically (Regina had not yet made out if Gabrie were innocent or malicious), she said-- "I've been sending her picture cards of the fox hunt, the meet, the motors, the smart people. That young woman has no ideas beyond all that." (She said _that young woman_ in accents of profound contempt.) "Nor have many others," muttered Antonio. He was stepping a little in advance of the ladies, and seemed lost in thought, very erect and fashionable, however, in his dark, smooth overcoat. "Do you mean that for me?" said Gabrie, after a pause. Then, without waiting for a reply, almost as if penitent, she added, "Dear me, Signor Antonio, aren't you crushed by that coat? The history professor has one like it, and the girls say whenever he goes out he has to come home and lie down--he's so worn out by it." "Indeed!" said Antonio, absently. They arrived at the Villa. The night was warm and still; the blue splendour of the moon eclipsed the lamps. The street was empty. Regina remembered the first night she had come to this house, and she sighed and smiled. She did not know why she sighed nor why she smiled, but she rapidly recalled how unhappy she had been then, while now she was so extremely happy, with a husband who loved her so much and worked for her so hard, with her pretty baby, her home, her heart-felt peace and assured prosperity; and yet----And yet? Oh, nothing! A mere cloud, the shadow of a cloud, passing over the depths of her soul! The great doors opened. The servant did not smile, but his pale, impassive face lighted up amiably at sight of the new-comers. "Are there many people?" asked Antonio, as the servant took Regina's cloak.