Two or three days passed, during which Minna scarcely saw anything of the three chief actors in the drama. She was left much to her own devices, and ‘thought the more.’ The weather was mild and exquisite; they were out all day, now buying things, now off on some excursion or ‘pleasure’ party. There was a subdued bustle about signora’s rooms, as of dressmakers, milliners and other purveyors of feminine finery and luxury. It was quite evident that things were being hastened on to their end. Meantime, the everyday prosaic business of the _pensione_ went on as usual. The house was full. It was the height of the season in Rome. Every day people came and went. Every day Signor Oriole looked more and more busy, more and more shabby, woebegone, and irritable. Needless to say that he never formed one of any of the parties or excursions. He went on in a sort of mechanical way, grinding at the wretched duties which he had taken upon his shoulders long ago; working out his punishment, and, so far as Minna could judge, and much to her astonishment, not rebellious, only miserably resigned. Minna did little work during those days, though she passed a good deal of time at her studio. She was utterly absorbed in anxious considerations of a kind perfectly fatal to the abstraction required for artistic work. Thus things stood when one afternoon she sat up in her parlour at Casa Dietrich, with a book idly lying on her knee, as she gazed out into the clear cold afternoon light, which would soon descend into darkness and night. A knock on the door. In answer to her ‘Avanti,’ Fulvia entered. ‘Ah, Fulvia, come in. It is ever so long since I saw you.’ ‘Good-evening, signora. I only came to look at my birds,’ said Fulvia in a low voice. ‘I have neglected them shamefully, but I am sure you have not.’ She went up to the cage and chirped to them. ‘There is nothing for me to do,’ she said with a faint smile. ‘All the better. You have been busy. Come here; sit down on this sofa and tell me how you are.’ Fulvia accepted the invitation, sat down, and stretched out one hand towards the warmth that came from the stove, from which also came a dull, pleasant red glow. The room was warm and pleasant, scented with violets and early roses. ‘It is so delightful here,’ said Fulvia, rather wearily. ‘It is delightful to see you there. But you have been very busy, I suppose?’ ‘Oh, I suppose so. We have rushed from one place to another. We have seen a great many things, and a great deal of money has been spent. I am quite bewildered with it. And I have tried on so many clothes. All day, when I was not having them bought for me, it seems to me that I was standing there with a woman pinning and fitting, and clipping things with great scissors. Some of them are ready, and have come home.’ ‘But you do not wear them!’ said Minna, whose eyes fell upon the girl’s dress, and saw that it was the old, much-despised blue woollen thing which Fulvia had worn when she had first met her.