Laura caressed her, whispering, ere she replied: 'The Signorina Vittoria Romana!--Biancolla!--Benarriva!' and numerous other names of inventive endearment.

But the count was too sharp to be thrown off the scent.

'Aha!' he said, 'do I see her one evening before the term appointed ?' and bowed profoundly.

'The Signorina Vittoria!' She threw up her veil.
'Success is certain,' he remarked and applauded, holding one hand as a snuff-box for the fingers of the other to tap on.
'Signor Conte, you--must not praise me before you have heard me.' 'To have seen you!' 'The voice has a wider dominion, Signor Conte.' 'The fame of the signorina's beauty will soon be far wider.

Was Venus a cantatrice ?' She blushed, being unable to continue this sort of Mayfly-shooting dialogue, but her first charming readiness had affected the proficient social gentleman very pleasantly, and with fascinated eyes he hummed and buzzed about her like a moth at a lamp.