mirthful upward glance at the Marchese's somewhat sullen
countenance. "Come and have luncheon with me! You are the major-domo
for the present--you have engaged the servants and you know the run
of the house--you must show me everything and tell me everything! I
have quite a nice chaperone--such a dear old English lady 'of title'
as they say in the 'Morning Post'--so it's all quite right and
proper--only she doesn't know a word of Italian and very little
French. But that's quite British you know!"

She passed, smiling, into the house, and he followed.




CHAPTER VII


Perhaps there is no lovelier effect in all nature than a Sicilian
sunset, when the sky is one rich blaze of colour and the sea below
reflects every vivid hue as in a mirror,--when the very air breathes
voluptuous indolence, and all the restless work of man seems an
impertinence rather than a necessity. Morgana, for once in her quick
restless life, felt the sudden charm of sweet peace and holy
tranquility, as she sat, or rather reclined at ease in a long lounge
chair after dinner in her rose-marble loggia facing the sea and
watching the intense radiance of the heavens burning into the still
waters beneath. She had passed the afternoon going over her whole
house and gardens, and to the Marchese Giulio Rivardi had expressed
herself completely satisfied,--while he, to whom unlimited means had
been entrusted to carry out her wishes, wondered silently as to the