"He died by the fountain, I believe," was her reply.

"And you and your friend--"

"Were over at the Loggia."

"That must have saved you much. You have not, of course, seen the
disgraceful illustrations which the gutter Press-- This man is
a public nuisance; he knows that I am a resident perfectly well,
and yet he goes on worrying me to buy his vulgar views."

Surely the vendor of photographs was in league with Lucy--in the
eternal league of Italy with youth. He had suddenly extended his
book before Miss Bartlett and Mr. Eager, binding their hands
together by a long glossy ribbon of churches, pictures, and
views.

"This is too much!" cried the chaplain, striking petulantly at
one of Fra Angelico's angels. She tore. A shrill cry rose from
the vendor. The book it seemed, was more valuable than one would
have supposed.

"Willingly would I purchase--" began Miss Bartlett.

"Ignore him," said Mr. Eager sharply, and they all walked rapidly
away from the square.

But an Italian can never be ignored, least of all when he has a
grievance. His mysterious persecution of Mr. Eager became
relentless; the air rang with his threats and lamentations. He