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Updated: May 8, 2025
But the Lorenzoni dined en famille sometimes, as even marquises and millionaires may do, and there were but two shirt-fronts and comparatively few diamonds in the great golden shining room when she entered it.
There was the slightest perceptible pause before Olive answered, "No, never. Why do you ask?" "I thought you looked as if you had somehow that night at the Lorenzoni palace. When we came in you were at the piano, and I thought you looked queer as if " "Oh, no," Olive said again, but she wondered afterwards if she had done right.
It had shocked Olive to hear his name uttered by alien lips, as it hurt her to suppose that he came often to the Palazzo Lorenzoni. She would not suppose it, and, indeed, nothing that Mamie had said could lead her to think that he was a friend of the family. They had clutched at him greedily, and he had repaid with an impertinence. That was all.
"I am sorry if I did you any harm with the Lorenzoni, but the woman told me she meant to send you away in any case because of the Marchese." Then, as he felt the clasp of her fingers loosening about his wrist, "Don't let go," he said quickly. "Is he really going to take you to Monte Carlo with him?" "Does his wife say so? Do you believe it?" He answered deliberately. "No, not now.
"It's real mean of your brother to keep his lovely garden shut up all through the spring," the Marchesa Lorenzoni had said once to Jean, and he had replied, "Well, it is his." That seemed final, but the present Marchesa and late relict of Jonas P. Whittaker of Pittsburg was not so easily put off.
A white dress lay on the sofa, carefully folded and covered with a sheet of tissue paper. "You look tired, Olive. Were you not happy in Florence?" The girl admitted that the Lorenzoni had not been very kind to her. She had left them and had been living on her savings. It had been hard to find other employment. "I want to work," she said. "You will let me help you, and I hope to get lessons."
The Marchese looked inquiringly at the Prince. "Shall you add to the gaiety of nations, or at least of Florence?" The young man shrugged his broad shoulders. "I suppose so." He was well established as cavalier servente now in the Lorenzoni household, and it was understood that Mamie would be a princess some day. The girl was so young that the engagement could scarcely be announced yet.
At times he was grimly, impenetrably silent, and often he said things that would have wounded a tender heart past healing. Fortunately there were none such in the Palazzo Lorenzoni. "I shall be ridiculous as the Alighieri, and you must forgive me, Mamie, if I say that one scarcely sees in you a reincarnation of Monna Beatrice." "Red is my colour," the girl answered rather defiantly.
I don't know." "Why did she leave Siena?" "There was some trouble a bad business," he answered reluctantly. "She lived with some cousins, and one of them committed suicide. She came away to escape the horror and all the talk, I suppose." "Ah, I need not ask why she left the Lorenzoni woman. No girl in her senses would stay an hour longer than she could help with her."
If you cannot tell me who you were with last I shall not be able to help you." "The Marchesa Lorenzoni," Olive said. The woman drew in her breath with a hissing noise, then she smiled, not pleasantly. "Why did you not say so before? I have heard of you, of course. The little English girl! Well, I can't help you, my dear. This is a registry office."
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