"Yes, he 's very handsome," she murmured. "He 's a Florentine. The dogs
in Florence are handsomer than the people." And on Rowland's caressing
him: "His name is Stenterello," she added. "Stenterello, give your hand
to the gentleman." This order was given in Italian. "Say buon giorno a
lei."

Stenterello thrust out his paw and gave four short, shrill barks; upon
which the elder lady turned round and raised her forefinger.

"My dear, my dear, remember where you are! Excuse my foolish child," she
added, turning to Roderick with an agreeable smile. "She can think of
nothing but her poodle."

"I am teaching him to talk for me," the young girl went on, without
heeding her mother; "to say little things in society. It will save me
a great deal of trouble. Stenterello, love, give a pretty smile and say
tanti complimenti!" The poodle wagged his white pate--it looked like
one of those little pads in swan's-down, for applying powder to the
face--and repeated the barking process.

"He is a wonderful beast," said Rowland.

"He is not a beast," said the young girl. "A beast is something black
and dirty--something you can't touch."

"He is a very valuable dog," the elder lady explained. "He was presented
to my daughter by a Florentine nobleman."

"It is not for that I care about him. It is for himself. He is better