At present she sat chatting with Valdarno, a tall and fair young man, with a weak mouth and a good-natured disposition; she had secured Giovanni, and though he sat sullenly smoking behind her, his presence gave her satisfaction.

Del Ferice's smooth face wore an expression of ineffable calm, and his watery blue eyes gazed languidly on the broad stretch of brown grass which bordered the highroad.
For some time the drag bowled along, and Giovanni was left to his own reflections, which were not of a very pleasing kind.

The other men talked of the chances of luck with the hounds; and Spicca, who had been a great deal in England, occasionally put in a remark not very complimentary to the Roman hunt.

Del Ferice listened in silence, and Giovanni did not listen at all, but buttoned his overcoat to the throat, half closed his eyes, and smoked one cigarette after another, leaning back in his seat.
Suddenly Donna Tullia's laugh was heard as she turned half round to look at Valdarno.
"Do you really think so ?" she cried.

"How soon?
What a dance we will lead them then!" Del Fence pricked his ears in the direction of her voice, like a terrier that suspects the presence of a rat.