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Have you ever been there? Does the Villa Clementini recall anything to you?" She was thoughtful for a few moments, and then said: "I seem to have heard of the villa, but in what connexion I do not recollect." "You are certain you do not know the owner of the villa?" I asked again, and described him once more very minutely. But alas! her mind seemed a perfect blank.
De Gex is greatly respected here," he hastened to tell me. "Since he bought the Villa Clementini outside Fiesole he has lived here for about eight months out of the twelve. Italians love rich people, and because of his wealth he is most popular. I see a good deal of him, for we act as agents for his property in Italy. He has quite a large estate mostly wine-growing."
On the fourth day he returned, for I saw him in his big yellow car driving along the Via Calzajoli. An elegant Italian, the young Marchese Cerretani, was seated at his side, and both were laughing together. Twice I had been up to the Villa Clementini, and wandered around its high white walls which hid the beautiful gardens from the public gaze.
They went forward towards the edge of the placid lake, hence I sprang upon the grass and followed them as noiseless as a cat. Little did the owner of the great Villa Clementini dream that I was lurking in such close vicinity. They halted beside one of the ancient statues of yellow marble, a heavy-limbed representation of Bacchus crowned with vine leaves, where they admired the fairy-like scene.
Oswald De Gex had on that memorable day become, against his will no doubt, a lion of London. One heard nothing of Mrs. De Gex. She was still at the Villa Clementini no doubt. Her name was never mentioned in the very eulogistic articles which innocent men of Fleet Street penned concerning the man of colossal finance. One can never blame Fleet Street for "booming" any man or woman.
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