he obligingly translated. "But for all the good I get of her,
she might as well live on the top of the Cornobastone," he
added dismally. "Yes, now you may bring me my coffee--only,
let it be tea. When your coffee is coffee it keeps me awake at
night."

Marietta trudged back to her kitchen, nodding at the sky.

The next afternoon, however, the Duchessa di Santangiolo
appeared on the opposite bank of the tumultuous Aco.




IX


Peter happened to be engaged in the amiable pastime of tossing
bread-crumbs to his goldfinches.

But a score or so of sparrows, vulture-like, lurked under cover
of the neighbouring foliage, to dash in viciously, at the
critical moment, and snatch the food from the finches' very
mouths.

The Duchessa watched this little drama for a minute, smiling,
in silent meditation: while Peter--who, for a wonder, had his
back turned to the park of Ventirose, and, for a greater wonder
still perhaps, felt no pricking in his thumbs--remained