She held out her hand and they admired the ring with rather comical gravity. An enormous emerald cut square and set in a delicate lacework of diamonds and platinum, it etherealized the white hand to the point of fragility. "My collection of emeralds ought to be complete. First my bracelet, then the pendant, and now my ring." He protested scornfully. "Complete, I should say not! I intend to hang ropes of emeralds all over you yet, when I'm really famous," he boasted with boyish glee. "Until I fall dead beneath their weight, like the princess in the fairy tale!" Her arm dropped from about his shoulder wearily. With a remorseful look at her pale face, he left her and walked to the window. "Look, the rain has stopped. It was only a shower after all. The hillsides are smiling again. And the garden is as fresh and dewy as a pretty woman after her bath. Shall we go out?" He opened the French window and they stepped out on to the flagged terrace. Polished by rain, diamond-studded, in the late afternoon sun, the garden sent up renewed incense, a symphony of rare fragrance, that mounted into the air like music. "It reminds me of one of Liszt's rhapsodies," said Alexis, his fingers wielding an imaginary bow. "Some day I shall compose a rhapsody of my own and call it, 'To a Tuscan Garden.'" "Ah, but next month when the roses are out, that is the most enchanting of all," sighed Anne dreamily. "But we shall not be here then," he retorted. "We shall already be on our way to Paris--I mean to Paradise!" He laughed unsteadily. "Anne, think of it. Think of you and me alone in the wagon-lit. Won't it be deliciously improper? I shall boast before the guards. It will be my wife desires this, and that. 'Please close the window. My wife doesn't like a draught!'" He was so comic in his pantomime that Anne laughed until the tears came. "You young rogue!" He pressed her arm against his side. "How is the poor head, dear? How would you like to lie down in the hammock and let me play to you, while the sun sinks back of the city, and sets the old Duomo on fire!" "What a Neronic inspiration!" She smiled with an effort. "But dear, would you think it beastly of me if I sent you home now? My head is really rather bad and if I don't make an effort to get rid of it, it may get the better of me." Immediately, he was full of remorse. "Of course not. Why didn't you send me packing a long time ago? I'll run right along and you go to bed like a good girl. Shall I see you in the morning?" "Weren't we going to the Uffizi? I know you detest sightseeing as much as I do. But there are some things you simply mustn't miss." He looked doubtful. "But are you fit to go, darling?" "Indeed I am. All I need to put me on my feet is a good night's rest. To-morrow I shall be right as rain." "Well, if you aren't, I'll come up and nurse you myself. Shall I take my violin back with me, or leave it here as usual?"