'_La sua Costantina_,' it ended; he could read that.

But between the two was an elusive, tantalizing hiatus.

He studied it and put it in his pocket and took it out and studied it again.

He was still puzzling over it half an hour later when Gustavo came to inquire if the signore had need of anything.
Had he need of anything! He sent Gustavo flying to the stationer's in search of an Italian-English dictionary.
It was four o'clock in the afternoon and all the world--except Constance--was taking a siesta.

The _Farfalla_, anchored at the foot of the water-steps in a blaze of sunshine, was dipping up and down in drowsy harmony with the lapping waves; she was for the moment abandoned, Giuseppe being engaged with a nap in the shade of the cypress trees at the end of the drive.