But what had come to the young woman that she should receive her gentle address with scowling brow and eyes of smouldering flame, and, instead of replying, should turn her back upon her, and, calling something down a speaking-tube, walk slowly through the opposite door into private regions? Ermengarde waited, uncertain for a moment whether to give up the trifling matter on which she had come, or to ring sharply for attendance. She was about to turn away, too full of inward disquiet to mind a small discourtesy, when the opposite door opened, disclosing the majestic presence of Madame Bontemps, to whom she listlessly made her request. Silently then a drawer was opened, stamps and postcards silently handed out, money received and change returned, in dread and ominous stillness. Then was fulminated this bolt from the blue; she was informed in a dry and level voice, and with much regret, that her room would be required for another guest at the expiration of the week. "But what do you mean?" cried Ermengarde. "People can't be allowed to take my room. Besides, I don't intend to give it up." "Pardon me. Madame is mistaken. The room is already reserved for the date indicated, and there is no other in the house suitable to the requirements of Madame." "Why, you are positively turning me out," she cried, incredulous with amazement. The Padrone crossed her arms upon her ample breast and smiled a cast-iron smile. "It is not for me to contradict the assertion of Madame," she replied, with a fierce shrug and a stony eye. Ermengarde turned white, and looked steadily in the hard and hostile face for a second. "I see that I have been mistaken in the character of this house," she said coldly. "Be good enough to accept my notice to leave at my earliest convenience." Then, without waiting for a reply, she went out into the sunshine and paced slowly through the garden, her skirts brushing scent from oak-leaf geraniums and her cheek tapped by the rounded coolness of lemons on the garden boughs, and came out upon the path that led over the open mountain ridge, drawing a long breath. "The insolence!" she burst out to an old woman, harmlessly knitting and leading her goat, who nodded and smiled in return, under the impression that kind remarks were being addressed to her--"the incredible insolence! All the people seem to have gone out of their senses this morning, or else I've gone out of mine." Chapter XVI The Sapphire Necklace