perception, of Florence which is denied to all who carry in their
pockets the coupons of Cook.

Therefore an invitation from the chaplain was something to be
proud of. Between the two sections of his flock he was often the
only link, and it was his avowed custom to select those of his
migratory sheep who seemed worthy, and give them a few hours in
the pastures of the permanent. Tea at a Renaissance villa?
Nothing had been said about it yet. But if it did come to that--
how Lucy would enjoy it!

A few days ago and Lucy would have felt the same. But the joys of
life were grouping themselves anew. A drive in the hills with Mr.
Eager and Miss Bartlett--even if culminating in a residential
tea-party--was no longer the greatest of them. She echoed the
raptures of Charlotte somewhat faintly. Only when she heard that
Mr. Beebe was also coming did her thanks become more sincere.

"So we shall be a partie carree," said the chaplain. "In these
days of toil and tumult one has great needs of the country and
its message of purity. Andate via! andate presto, presto! Ah,
the town! Beautiful as it is, it is the town."

They assented.

"This very square--so I am told--witnessed yesterday the most
sordid of tragedies. To one who loves the Florence of Dante and
Savonarola there is something portentous in such desecration--
portentous and humiliating."