"Oh, no, the song is quite right--when a man is openly unfaithful, it is only in answer to a secret defection on the part of the woman. Any intelligent woman who wishes to keep a man, can do it--you can always be sure that it is really the woman's fault if a man strays in his allegiance." "That is an extremely convenient theory," said Ragna, laughing, "but it is a poor rule that won't work both ways. Would you make the man responsible for infidelity on the part of the woman?" "Oh, that is a very different matter!" "Why should it be?" "You will not pretend, I suppose, that a woman is exactly the same as a man? The difference between them alters the whole aspect of the case." "Oh!" said Ragna, "you are incorrigible, you twist and turn so,--you will never meet me fairly!" "The infidelity of man," continued Mirko, "is different in its very essence from that of woman,--it is quite possible for a man to be constant when he is apparently most unfaithful--the superficial change only enhances the charm of the real affection; he never tires of coming back to it,--if he were never to leave it, it would pall on him." "Why will you be so paradoxical?" "It is not I who am paradoxical,--it is life." They were so absorbed in their conversation, that the guide found no way of attracting their attention; in vain did he hem and haw, and scrape his foot on the gravel. "They are most certainly a '_viaggio di nozze_,'" he thought, "or perhaps '_fidanzati_'--as such they will be generous." Finally, as they came to the entrance to the ruins, he stepped before them with a commanding gesture. "This, Signori, is the gallery where the Empress sat with her ladies. You see it overlooks the street where the chariots passed up to the palace. The palace itself was built out over the way, and the people went under it as under a bridge."