As I reached the door I heard him call out foolishly, "But Mr.
Poor, I beg you--"

Poor Jr. put his hand on my shoulder, and we walked out into the
dark of the terrace. Antonio was leaning against the railing,
the beautiful lady standing near. Mrs. Landry had sunk into a
chair beside her daughter. No other people were upon the
terrace.

"Prince Caravacioli has been speaking of you," said Poor Jr.,
very quietly.

"Ah?" said I.

"I listened to what he said; then I told him that you were my
friend, and that I considered it fair that you should hear what
he had to say. I will repeat what he said, Ansolini. If I
mistake anything, he can interrupt me."

Antonio laughed, and in such a way, so sincerely, so gaily, that
I was frightened.

"Very good!" he cried. "I am content. Repeat all."

"He began," Poor Jr. went on, quietly, though his hand gripped
my shoulder to almost painfulness,--"he began by saying to
these ladies, in my presence, that we should be careful not to
pick up chance strangers to dine, in Italy, and--and he went
on to give me a repetition of his friendly warning about Paris.
He hinted things for a while, until I asked him to say what he