“His Majesty is expected at any moment,” she informed Hera, with shaking voice; “and you with your husband are to be in readiness to receive him.” “Yes, Aunt,” she answered. “I will go.” The three walked together across the garden to the grand portico, up the staircase swarming with guests, and into the Atlantean chamber, where Mario took leave of the others. The company was becoming impatient, for it was the dinner hour in many houses. “Something of a change from their coop in Via Monte Leone,” remarked a certain Nobody-in-particular, as Hera and her father passed by. “Yes; and there’s the magic hand that did it,” observed her companion, with a movement of his head toward Donna Beatrice, who was approaching with Tarsis. “Donna Beatrice! You are right. A noble fisher maiden.” “Who hooked a golden whale.” “She has a carriage not shared with other branches of the family _now_.” “How is that?” “Family secret. I’m the only outsider who knows. Some time I may tell--you.” “Tarsis looks as if he’d like to bite somebody.” “Old instinct. You know the beginning of his career?” “Yes; watch-dog in a silk-mill.” “Time-keeper. I suppose that’s the kind of face he used to pull when a hand turned up late.” “Perhaps he’ll dock the King for arriving after the whistle has blown.” “Is there anything that you respect?” “Nothing but you.” They laughed and went up to Donna Beatrice and Tarsis to say pleasant things. An orchestra of picked players from La Scala made music, but the hum of talk and the laughter drowned all save the _fortissimo_ attacks. Mario and the Cardinal stood near by that they might hear the quieter passages. The Nobodies-in-particular continued: “Do you know, I have an impression that the honey in the moon has curdled.” “I didn’t know that honey curdled. Still, I’ll waive the point. Why do you think so?” “Have you detected any sign of sweetness between them?” “No; but would you have them bill and coo in public?” “Certainly not. Nor would I have them cat and dog in public.” “You have a prolific fancy.” “Oh, of course. It is natural that you, belonging to the blind sex, should look straight at them and see nothing.” “What was there to see?” “View one: His melodramatic stare when she gave Forza her hand. I wonder if Tarsis knows anything.” “Let us revel in a thrill of charity and wonder if there is anything to know.” “You may. I shall continue to use my eyes and wits.” “Upon my word, I see nothing sensational in a man looking at his wife.” “Modest of you, Reni, and considerate. To the pure all things are pure. You were too noble to say it and crush me.” “I’m afraid I might have done so, only the deuced proverb is always taking another shape in my mind--to the poor all things are forbidden.” “Is that the reason our Hera forbid you?”