"No; I don't expect you do. She's so amazingly clever that she can cause her dupes to believe in her absolutely. Her face is so innocent that one would never believe her capable of such heartless actions as are attributed to her." "But what experience have you personally had of her?" he inquired, still dubious. He knew that this elderly woman of the world was utterly unscrupulous. "I met her in Venice last year," her ladyship said. "All Venice was acquainted with her deliciously original countenance. Her notoriety was due to her pretty air of astonishment, the purity of her blue eyes, and the expression of chaste innocence which she can assume when it so pleases her--an expression which contrasts powerfully with her true nature, shameless creature that she is." "And are you absolutely positive that the woman I love as Gemma Fanetti is none other than the Contessa Funaro, the owner of the great historic Funaro palace in Florence, and the Villa Funaro at Ardenza?" "I have already told you all I know." "But you have given me no proof." "I merely express satisfaction that you have been wise enough to relinquish all thought of marrying her." "I really can't believe that this is the truth. How did you know she was in London?" "I was told so by one who knows her. She has been staying at the Victoria," her ladyship answered. "I don't believe what you say," he cried wildly. "No, I won't believe it. There is some mistake." "She has left the hotel," Lady Marshfield said, fixing her cold eyes on him. "Follow her, and charge her with the deception." "It is useless. I am confident that Gemma is not this notorious Contessa." Her ladyship made a gesture of impatience, saying--"I have no object in deceiving you, Charles. I merely think it right that you should be made aware of the truth, hideous as it is." "But is it the truth?" he demanded fiercely. "There is absolutely no proof. I certainly never knew her address in Florence, but at Livorno she lived in a little flat on the Passeggio. If she were the Contessa, she would certainly have lived in her own beautiful villa at Ardenza, only a mile away." "She may have let it for the season," his hostess quickly observed. "The Countess Funaro is certainly wealthy enough, if reports be true, without seeking to obtain a paltry two or three thousand lire for her villa," he said. "She no doubt had some object in living quietly as she did, especially as she was hiding her identity from you."