Sassi received Malipieri in a little sitting-room furnished with a
heterogeneous collection of utterly useless objects, all of which the
old agent treasured with jealous affection, and daily recommended to
the care of the elderly woman who was his only servant. The sofa and
chairs had been new forty years ago, and though the hideous red-and-
green stuffs with which they were covered were still tolerably vivid
in colours the legs did not look safe, and Malipieri kept his feet
well under him and sat down cautiously. Two rickety but well-dusted
tables were loaded with ancient nicknacks, dating from the early part
of the second French Empire, with impossibly ugly little figures
carved out of cheap alabaster, small decayed photograph albums, and
ingeniously bad wax flowers under glass shades. On the walls hung bad
lithographs of Pius Ninth, Napoleon Third and Metternich, with a large
faded photograph of old Prince Conti as a young man. Malipieri looked
at it curiously, for he guessed that it represented Sabina's father.
The face was clean-shaven, thin and sad, with deep eyes and fair hair
that looked almost white now, as if the photograph had grown old with
the man, while he had lived.

Sassi sat down opposite his visitor. He wore a black cloth cap with a
green tassel, and rubbed his hands slowly while he waited for
Malipieri to speak. The latter hesitated a moment and then went to the
point at once.

"You were the agent of the Conti estate for many years," he said. "I
know the Senator Volterra and have met Donna Sabina. I understand that
her mother has left her under the charge of the Senator's wife, and
seems to have forgotten her existence. The young lady is apparently
without resources of her own, and it is not clear what would become of
her if the Volterra couple should not find it convenient to keep her