"Eh, it's the beautiful moment. I'm glad our city pleases you!"

"Florence pleases me--and I take a paternal interest to our young
friend," I added, glancing at Stanmer. "I have become very fond of him."

"_Bel tipo inglese_," said my hostess. "And he is very intelligent; he
has a beautiful mind."

She stood there resting her smile and her clear, expressive eyes upon me.

"I don't like to praise him too much," I rejoined, "lest I should appear
to praise myself; he reminds me so much of what I was at his age. If
your beautiful mother were to come to life for an hour she would see the
resemblance."

She gave me a little amused stare.

"And yet you don't look at all like him!"

"Ah, you didn't know me when I was twenty-five. I was very handsome!
And, moreover, it isn't that, it's the mental resemblance. I was
ingenuous, candid, trusting, like him."

"Trusting? I remember my mother once telling me that you were the most
suspicious and jealous of men!"

"I fell into a suspicious mood, but I was, fundamentally, not in the
least addicted to thinking evil. I couldn't easily imagine any harm of
any one."