"Let's dine at the Eden. There's plenty of air there. We can get a table facing the sea, and stay to the performance afterwards. Shall we?" she asked, her face brightening. "Certainly," he replied. "I'll go across to the hotel and dress, while you go along home and put on another frock. I know you won't go in black to a _cafe chantant_," he added, laughing. "You'll call for me?" she asked. "Yes, at eight." As these words fell from his lips a man's voice in English exclaimed-- "Hulloa, Charlie! Who'd have thought of finding you here?" Armytage looked up quickly, and, to his surprise, found standing before him his old college chum and fellow clubman, Frank Tristram. "Why, Frank, old fellow!" he cried, jumping up and grasping the other's hand warmly. "We haven't met for how long? The last time was one night in the Wintergarden at Berlin, fully two years ago--eh?" "Yes. Neither of us are much in London nowadays, therefore we seldom meet. But what are you doing here?" asked the King's messenger, looking cool and smart in his suit of grey flannel. "Killing time, as usual," his friend replied, with a smile. "Lucky devil!" Tristram exclaimed. "While I'm compelled to race from end to end of Europe for a paltry eight hundred a year, you laze away your days in an out-of-the-world place like this." And he glanced significantly at the sweet, fair-faced woman who, having given him a swift look, was now sitting motionless, her hands idly crossed upon her lap, her eyes fixed blankly upon the sunlit sea. "Let me introduce you," Armytage exclaimed in Italian, noticing his friend's look of admiration. "The Signorina Gemma Fanetti--my friend, Captain Frank Tristram." The latter bowed, made a little complimentary speech in excellent Italian, and seated himself with Armytage beside her. "Well," Tristram said, still speaking in Italian, "this is quite an unexpected pleasure. I thought that in addition to the Ambassador out at Ardenza, and the jovial Jack Hutchinson, the Consul, I was the only Englishman in this purely Tuscan place." Then turning to his friend's companion, he asked, "Are you Livornese?" "Oh, no," she replied, with a gay, rippling laugh, "I live in Florence; only just now the place is stifling, so I'm down here for fresh air." "Ah, Florence!" he said. "The old city is justly termed `La Bella.' I sometimes find myself there in winter, and it is always interesting, always delightful." At that moment an English lady, the wife of an Italian officer, bowed in passing, and Armytage sprang to his feet and began to chat to her. He had known her well during his stay in Florence earlier in the year. As soon as Gemma noticed that her lover was no longer listening, her manner at once changed, and bending quickly towards the Captain, she exclaimed in rapid Italian, which she knew Armytage could not understand-- "Well, did you see Vittorina safely to London?" Tristram started at the unexpected mention of that name.