"Shall we go into the picture-gallery?" asked the count.

"I think we may have time to walk through it," I answered. "It is
half-past three."

"Is it possible that we have kept you waiting so long?" they asked
simultaneously.

"An hour and a half is a short time in a place like the Sistine Chapel,"
I remarked sententiously.

As soon as we were alone I drew Helen to the confessional: "Did you tell
him about Mr. Denham?"

"Yes, everything, and he was so noble. I am so sorry. The tears stood in
his eyes, and he said, 'I suffer, but I am a man. I can bear it.' Then
he thanked me for dealing so openly with him. He never once hinted a
reproach. And I deserved it," she said with unwonted humility. "I never
felt before how wicked it is to flirt just a little. He is not selfish,
like some people that I know;" and my thought followed hers. "I don't
know but I am a little goose to let him go so. If he were only
twenty-three years old, and I were free--"

The next day we saw nothing of the count, but early Thursday morning
Vincenzo knocked at my door with a note, in which Count Alvala informed
me that he was my son, and begged earnestly to see the beautiful Miss
St. Clair once more: he would never trouble me again. It was the only
day on which we could see the Palace of the Cæsars, and would I be so
good as to permit him to meet us there? I hastily penciled a few words: