‘Come to whichever I am most likely to be found at at the time,’ said Minna composedly. ‘Good; I shall look you up some day soon.’ She nodded. Minna went downstairs and walked till she met an open carriage. Rome was just beginning to spend the evening; it would continue at that occupation till the small hours of the morning. The streets would be vocal, the whips would be cracking, the crowd would be moving nearly all through the night. Just now it looked gay, full of life and brilliance, as she drove homewards through the brilliantly-lighted streets and piazzas, past splashing Trevi, with its groups of loungers outlined dark in the electric light against the shining wet marble slabs, now past a row of shops illuminated by all the power of gas which could be turned on, then suddenly a plunge into some obscure, narrow street, again an open square, brightly lighted on every side, and rising from the centre of it the solemn majesty of the Pantheon, with its wondrous dome and its awful portico, seeming to say, ‘I stand alone now, and have many thoughts, many memories, O ye little hurrying children of to-day! Once I was one of a great company, some of whom were grander than I; light your gas flames, spread your electricity, multiply your scientific microscopes, but with them all ye shall never read my secret nor the secret of them that made me. That is not for the scientist to tell, but for the poet; and I observe that scientists become more and poets fewer; yet I may stand to shelter him, though he be another thousand years a-coming.’ It was a spot in which Minna had never yet found herself without a secret thrill of pleasure. She felt it even now, preoccupied as she was, and looked with grateful eyes at the huge building as she passed it. In five minutes more she was at the door of Casa Dietrich. When she entered the hall, she found it was much later than she had imagined, and that the ubiquitous Ettore was even now on his way from door to door, knocking on each one and uttering his customary chant of ‘Dinner is ready.’ Two disastrous encounters she had already had to-day with Signor Giuseppe. She went into the dining-room in some trepidation, sincerely hoping that a third might not take place. Should such a thing happen, she would be forced to conclude that someone had looked at her with the evil eye. For a time all went well. She pointedly made a very polite bow to Signor Giuseppe, which he returned in silence and with cold majesty, and the meal began. The soup had gone round. Then came a dish of roast meat which was first handed round Minna’s side of the table. She helped herself to it and to the vegetables which followed, and had eaten her portion before she noticed that anything had gone wrong. Then, having finished, she beheld at the opposite side of the table a row of anxious-looking, downcast faces. On the plates before them lay little heaps of vegetables which had been there so long that they had ceased even to steam.