"What is that tower?" McTaggart pointed. "I can see it from my bedroom window." "The Torre del Mangia," his aunt replied, "above the palace of the Commune. You must see the frescoes in the Chapel, by Bazzi--pure quattro cento. And there is the famous Fonte Gaia--after Giacomo della Quercia. The original fragments are in the museum. That is a copy--but still fine. This Square is where 'il Palio' is run, the two occasions in the year when Siena awakes to life----" she smiled scornfully as she spoke. "Dio!--I shall be glad to go--it is a city of the dead. And cold...!" She shivered and drew her furs closer, aware of the sunset hour. They came at last into the palace. Beppo received them in the hall with letters for his young master. McTaggart eagerly gathered them up. "Bring 'sweet wine' into the boudoir," said the Marchesa to the servant. She turned to her nephew. "It's warmer there. I will join you when I get rid of my furs." But McTaggart went to his room first, anxious to find if the letters held any news of Cydonia, and, locking the door, sat down by his stove. There were three of them, sent on from his club. A line from Bethune, a tailor's bill and an envelope in a clerkly hand. He tore it open carelessly. Then, quickly, he turned it over, glanced at the signature, set his teeth; and his face flushed with growing anger as he went through the contents again. It was signed "Ebenezer Cadell," and contained a narrow unfastened note. He read that too, then leaned back and swore aloud in his bitter chagrin. Never in all his wildest dreams had he pictured himself a jilted man! Yet here it was--he smiled sourly--Cydonia had thrown him over! Cydonia--the woman he loved. The girl for whom, in his loyalty, he had sworn to sacrifice the pride of his ancient and historic name. She had "made a mistake." He read it again, holding to the light of the stove the mauve paper with the monogram "C" engraved in a fantastic wreath. She was "too young"--as her "parents said"--"to think of marriage for some years." She hoped "Peter would understand"--and "not feel very hurt!" She would "like to keep him as a friend." ("I'll be damned if she will!"--said the angry man.) Her Mother had been "quite ill" again, upset by their "secrecy." ("Dash it all!" In the midst of his pain McTaggart smiled. "She can't expect a proposal in public--whatever is she driving at?") Cydonia hoped he would not write. "Father" thought it better not. She was "_VERY_ sorry." For the first time the careful writing shook a little. A line crossed through revealed the fact that she would "miss him dreadfully." But she thought her parents "knew best." They had been "very kind" to her--and "Father was writing to explain." This statement was distinctly true. For Cadell rubbed salt into the sore! McTaggart turned once more to his letter.