"Yes, studded with jewels."

I loved the beautiful youth. His presence was like a poem in my life,
and if it ever occurred to me that the familiar intercourse of the young
people might not be altogether prudent, I dismissed it with the thought,
He is only a boy.

There was to be an illumination of the Coliseum. We were going of
course, and Count Alvala begged that I would honor him by making use of
his carriage on this occasion. "Thank you, but I have already spoken to
Piero to come for us."

"Oh, but we can send him away. You will find my carriage more
comfortable, and it will be in every way pleasanter," he urged
beseechingly; but my negative was peremptory.

Eight o'clock came. Miss St. Clair and I descended to the court of the
hotel, but where was Piero? "It is singular. He was never late before,
but I am confident that he will be here presently. We have only to wait
a little."

The minutes went by, and they were long minutes. It was awkward waiting
in so public a place. The count had joined us with his friend, an
Italian marquis some thirty years of age, with whom we had a slight
acquaintance. The count's handsome equipage was drawn up near us. There
was no Piero.

"I really think you had better accept my young friend's carriage. It
would be a pity to miss so grand a spectacle," said the marquis.