roads, no doubt. And better food, I hope? I was much interested in that
little lake--you know? It seemed to have no outlet. We must talk it
over. And I like those Bulanga people--fine fellows! You liked them too?
I'm glad to hear it. Such a lot of nonsense was talked about their
depravity! If you have nothing better to do, come and lunch to-morrow,
can you? Villa Khismet. Anybody will show you the way. You, Denis," he
added, "you disappoint me. You look like a boy who is fond of flowers.
And yet you have never been to see my cannas, which are the finest in
the kingdom, to say nothing of myself, who am also something of a
flower. A carnivorous orchid, I fancy."

"A virgin lily," suggested Don Francesco.

"I wish I could manage to come," replied Mr. Heard. "But I must look
for a cousin of mine to-morrow; Mrs. Meadows. Perhaps you know her?"

The priest said:

"We all know Mrs. Meadows. And we all like her. Unfortunately she lives
far, far away; right up there," and he pointed vaguely towards the
sirocco clouds. "In the Old Town, I mean. She dwells like a hermit, all
alone. You can drive up there in a carriage, of course. It is a pity
all these nice people live so far away. There is Count Caloveglia, for
instance, whom I would like to see every day of my life. He talks
better English than I do, the old humbug! He, too, is a hermit. But he
will be down here to-morrow. He never misses the theatricals."

Everybody seems to be a hermit hereabouts, thought Mr. Heard. And yet
this place is seething with people!