Ah, well!--to talk like the Master--all life, if one considered it, was an unhappy history. Was it not a most discomfortable sign of the times that a girl of twenty, who had left the green river-banks of her birth-place for the first time, should deliberately set down in her note-book the most hideous things of life, which, moreover, were only calumny? Antonio came home about seven. As on an evening long ago, the laid table awaited him, and the passage was fragrant with the smell of fried artichokes. Regina, not long returned from her walk, was making out the housekeeping list for the morrow. Caterina was awake, and Antonio took her at once on his arm and sat down by the window. The lamp-light always excited Caterina and made her even merrier than usual. "Like the kittens," said the nurse. The baby, who appeared to cherish a great admiration for her father, sat staring at him for a long time, then gravely showed him one little foot with its sock on and a new shoe. Antonio understood her. "Aha! A coquette already! We've got some beautiful shoes, and we want them admired, eh?" he said, nodding his head and taking the little foot in his hand. But Caterina's face darkened. She frowned horribly, and made a great effort to liberate her foot. She succeeded, but the shoe came off and fell on the floor. Then the young father stooped and, not without difficulty, put the little, hot, pulsing foot back in the shoe, addressing the baby in phrases which, according to Balzac, are ridiculous to read, but in the mouth of a father are sublime. Caterina replied in her own fashion. The mother drew nearer, but Antonio and the baby continued their interesting conversation. The young man's eyes were clear and joyous, and once again Regina convinced herself that she had dreamed a hideous dream. * * * * * And day after day followed, almost exactly similar to this one. CHAPTER IV An unusually hot April was burning up the city. Towards evening the heavens flamed like incandescent metal. The scent of summer, of dust, of withered grass, made the air almost suffocating. One evening Regina was visiting the Princess, who two days later was going to Albano. "Shall you be there long?" asked the pink-china-headed old gentleman, in French, making a great effort to speak. But, as he did not speak at all loud, Madame's big, yellow face revolved slowly till her good ear was turned in the old gentleman's direction. "Beg pardon?" "Will you stay long at Albano?" "Three weeks." "Where will you go afterwards?" continued the other, with a seriousness almost tragic. "To Viareggio, Monsieur. And you?" "I don't know yet. I am still undecided. Perhaps to Vichy. You will remain in Italy?" "Probably this year. I am not over well, and I don't wish to do anything fatiguing. How dreadfully hot it is already! One can't sleep. I ought to have got out the hair mattresses."