Rhoda would be uncomfortable and abashed at this ironical address, and would wriggle uneasily, till her old friend--her magician, as she called him--would go off on another tack, and, inspired by his own mention of the amphitheatre, would pour forth for her his stores of learning, the history of ancient times, and would make Rome live for her again. Rhoda did not know which kind of story she liked best. One day she said to him abruptly: ‘You tell these things so well, I am sure you have told them before. You say we are all alike. Did you ever tell them to any other girl, and did she like them too?’ ‘Yes!’ he answered, with something like a start. ‘She liked them?’ ‘Yes, very much.’ ‘Tell me, was she an English girl or an Italian girl?’ ‘An Italian girl--a Roman girl, carina.’ ‘And where is she now--that girl?’ They were alone on this occasion. Rhoda looked earnestly into Signor Giuseppe’s face. A strange expression came over it. ‘That girl,’ said he very gently, ‘is now dead.’ ‘Oh--h!’ breathed Rhoda, shocked at her own indiscretion. ‘I’m sorry I asked,’ she added softly. By way of answer he began to tell her another story. These two firm friends then were left at home, and Minna with her two men walked across the park to the Hall. CHAPTER XXI. They were received by Fulvia alone. ‘My husband is intensely disappointed,’ she said, ‘but he is not at all well to-day. Dr. Brownrigg was here this morning, and absolutely forbade his coming in to dinner. You will be kind enough to take me by myself.’ They had all enough _savoir faire_ not to betray their great exultation at the announcement, and to say, without even a conscious look amongst them, that they were sorry Mr. Marchmont was suffering. The dinner was a charming one. The conversation never ceased, and Marchmont’s name was scarcely mentioned. When the meal was over--they had lingered over it--they all went out of the dining-room together. In the hall Fulvia said: ‘If you want to smoke, do it now. I am going to ask Mrs. Hastings to do me a favour. Come with me,’ she added, turning to Minna. ‘I must just go and speak to him for a few moments before we go to the drawing-room.’ Minna assented, and they went to Marchmont’s rooms. They found him in the midst of his luxuries--the softly shaded lights, the cunningly padded couches, the endless appliances for securing ease and comfort. He was already beginning to look very much flushed; his hard eyes were bright, and his twisted mouth looked more askew, more grotesquely sardonic than ever. When he saw Minna, he made an effort at something approaching politeness, but he looked at his wife with an irritated impatience which he did not attempt to conceal. ‘What have you been doing?’ he asked snappishly. ‘Does it take over two hours for four people to eat their dinner? I thought you were never coming.’