This was destined to be a day of contretemps. She returned to Casa Dietrich for lunch, having an appointment in the middle of the afternoon. At the meal Signor Giuseppe sat opposite to her as usual, but did not notice her in any way, for which grace she was devoutly thankful. The lunch went off peacefully enough. Ettore appeared to be on his better behaviour, and less than an hour was consumed in the entertainment. Minna’s engagement that afternoon was at a reception given by her old friend, Mrs. Charrington, a reception from which she dared not absent herself, though not specially anxious to go there or anywhere. She knew that some fifty or sixty guests had been invited, and that she must appear more or less _en grande tenue_. She dressed herself therefore with some care, and, a little after four, came from her room looking very handsome and very attractive in a costume of gray silk and brown fur. She was just throwing her fur cloak over her arm, knowing she would want it as she drove to her friend’s house; and thus arrayed, she went down a short passage which led into a long narrow kind of ante-room, through which she had to pass to reach the entrance hall. No sooner had she entered the ante-room than she saw that her ill-luck was pursuing her. In the room were two persons in earnest, yea, passionate discussion or dispute--Signor Giuseppe and Ettore. The subject of their discourse was the week’s wash of household linen, which lay in piles, neatly folded and fresh from the hands of the laundress, on the tables, on the chairs, on the floor, and in every direction around them. Signor Giuseppe held a long piece of paper covered with figures. He had been reading out the list of the numbers of each article, and it was Ettore’s duty to count them; to say _giusto_ if they were right, and _non c’è_ if any of them were missing. The point in question now was that some dinner-napkins were wanting, which, Ettore vowed, could never have been sent to the wash at all, for that the woman who did the washing was a very honest, upright woman, and, if they were not there, it was an indisputable fact that they never had been there, let them stand on the list as much as Signor Giuseppe or anyone else pleased. ‘You rascal!’ Giuseppe had just cried passionately. ‘Do you mean to tell me I am a liar?’ The reply was a shrug expressing volumes. ‘Look again!’ ejaculated the irate gentleman. ‘Here are twenty-four table-napkins on the list, and only twenty are to be found. Count carefully. If they are not there, I will myself go and threaten the wretched creature with the Questura and an exposure of her dishonesty. Do you imagine I will let Signora Dietrich be thus plundered and not lift a finger in her defence?’