“Why, poor man! This is my niece whom I told you I was expecting! Arrived last night! We've been to church!” Mrs. Erwin exclaimed each of the facts. The Italian girl stretched her hand across the gunwales of the boats, which their respective gondoliers had brought skillfully side by side, and took Lydia's hand. “I'm glad to see you, my dear. But my God, how beautiful you Americans are! But you don't look American, you know; you look Spanish! I shall come a great deal to see you, and practice my English.” “Come home with, us now, Miss Landini, and have lunch,” said Mrs. Erwin. “No, my dear, I can't. My aunt will be raising the devil if I'm not there to drink coffee with her; and I've been a great while away now. Till tomorrow!” Miss Landini's gondolier pushed his boat away, and rowed it up a narrow canal on the right. “I suppose,” Mrs. Erwin explained, “that she's really her mother,--everybody says so; but she always calls her aunt. Dear knows who her father was. But she's a very bright girl, Lydia, and you'll like her. Don't you think she speaks English wonderfully for a person who's never been out of Venice?” “Why does she swear?” asked Lydia, stonily. “_Swear_? Oh, I know what you mean. That's the funniest thing about Miss Landini. Your uncle says it's a shame to correct her; but I do, whenever I think of it. Why, you know, such words as God and devil don't sound at all wicked in Italian, and ladies use them quite commonly. She understands that it isn't good form to do so in English, but when she gets excited she forgets. Well, you can't say but what _she_ was impressed, Lydia!” After lunch, various people came to call upon Mrs. Erwin. Several of them were Italians who were learning English, and they seemed to think it inoffensive to say that they were glad of the opportunity to practice the language with Lydia. They talked local gossip with her aunt, and they spoke of an approaching visit to Venice from the king; it seemed to Lydia that the king's character was not good. Mr. Rose-Black, the English artist, came. He gave himself the effect of being in Mrs. Erwin's confidence, apparently without her authority, and he bestowed a share of this intimacy upon Lydia. He had the manner of a man who had been taken up by people above him, and the impudence of a talent which had not justified the expectations formed of it. He softly reproached Mrs. Erwin for running away after service before he could speak to her, and told her how much everybody had been enchanted by her niece's singing. “At least, they said it was your niece.” “Oh, yes, Mr. Rose-Black, let me introduce you to Miss--” Lydia looked hard, even to threatening, at her aunt, and Mrs. Erwin added, “Blood.” “I beg your pardon,” said Mr. Rose-Black, with his picked-up politeness, “I didn't get the name.” “Blood,” said Mrs. Erwin, more distinctly.