‘He is a republican, you know, at heart. He has fought for his country. He helped to plant the tricolour on Castel Sant’Angelo. He was in it on that twentieth day of September. Yes, he has fought in the red shirt. He has given up all he had. He comes of an awfully good Southern Italian family with a title, duke or prince, but he won’t use it, and gets very angry if anyone speaks to him about it. Says he is plain citizen Giuseppe Oriole, and basta cosi! He’s a gentleman is Giuseppe, if ever there was one.’ ‘Then why does he waste his time and his powers and his brains and irritate himself to madness, as I can see he does, by undertaking the petty cares of the management of a second-class _pensione_ in Rome--for that’s what it is, when all is said and done. For a small salary a dozen men could be found to do it, and to do it better than he does. Does Signora Dietrich pay him?’ she added suddenly. Hans laughed, somewhat uncomfortably. ‘Pay him!’ he ejaculated; ‘not she. He does it to save her from having to pay someone else, because she is poor and extravagant, and he is--well, he is a very old and intimate friend of hers,’ he concluded lamely. There was a pause; then Minna said, in the tone of one to whom a single word has cleared up a mystery. ‘Oh, I see ... and Signora Dietrich--what is she like?’ ‘I decline to attempt any description of Signora Dietrich,’ replied Hans. ‘I suppose she will be home before long, and then you can judge for yourself.’ ‘I don’t want a description,’ said Minna resolutely. ‘I only want a word. Tell me--yes or no--do you like her?’ ‘No,’ replied Hans. ‘Ah!’ said Minna, slowly moving her head once or twice, and then, in a different tone, as of one who would say ‘Let this be forgotten,’ she said, pointing to the wall: ‘That print of the “Gioconda” does not hang quite straight; one touch to the left will make it right, if you don’t mind.’ Hans rose to fulfil her behest, and, having put the picture straight, observed that he had an appointment at Ronzi’s with two other fellows, and wished her good-night. Perhaps he had quite forgotten, as Minna assuredly had, that Signora Dietrich was not alone in her absence. Her daughter Fulvia was with her. CHAPTER IV. One morning Minna, who breakfasted in her own room, having finished sooner than usual, in consequence of the premature arrival of Arcangela, the housemaid, with the meal, found herself also ready to go out earlier than was her wont. She put on her outdoor things and went towards the dining-room to see if perchance a young American girl, to whom she had taken something of a liking, should be already there. It was Friday, and she had promised the girl to drive with her some fine Friday or Monday afternoon in Doria Pamfili Gardens. She thought she might catch her at breakfast, and arrange the matter before going out.