"Humph!" grunted the old singer, with a shrug, and a sound that was
half a sneer and half a chuckle. "I suppose he don't above half like
the price he has to pay for his plaything! But that don't make it
wise in Bianca to drive him to the wall more than need be. Limed and
caught as he is, he's one that may give her some trouble yet. For my
part, I wish she had not gone on this fool's errand this morning.
Now, I will go and get my breakfast. I shall be back in half-an-
hour. I expect Signor Ercole Stadione here this morning."

Signor Ercole Stadione was the impresario of the Ravenna theatre.

"And if he comes before you are back, Signor Quinto?" asked Gigia.

"If he should come before I am back, let the boy call me from the
cafe. And, Gigia, whenever he comes, you can let him understand, you
know, that your mistress is in her own room,--resting after the
ball, you know. He's hand and glove with the Marchese."

"I wasn't born yesterday, Signor Quinto, though you seem to think
so," returned Gigia, as the old man began to descend the stairs.

Signor Quinto went to the cafe, and consumed his little cup of black
coffee, with its abominable potion of so-called "rhum" in it, and
the morsel of dry bread, which constituted his accustomed breakfast;
and then, as he was returning to his lodging, encountered the
"impresario" in the street.

"Well met, Signor Lalli!" cried little Signor Ercole, cheerily. "I
was on my way to your house to settle our little matters. I have not
seen you, I think, since Sunday night. The bustle of these last days