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But he has got shares in mines somewhere
out in Brazil; and then he has been immensely
successful as a feuilleton writer in Paris and
Vienna and London. He seems to have half a
dozen languages at his finger-tips; and there's
nothing to prevent his keeping up his newspaper
connections from here. Slanging the Jesuits
won't take all his time."
"That's true, of course. It's time to start,
Cesare. Yes, I will wear the roses. Wait just a
minute."
She ran upstairs, and came back with the roses
in the bosom of her dress, and a long scarf of black
Spanish lace thrown over her head. Martini surveyed
her with artistic approval.
"You look like a queen, Madonna mia; like
the great and wise Queen of Sheba."
"What an unkind speech!" she retorted,
laughing; "when you know how hard I've been
trying to mould myself into the image of the typical
society lady! Who wants a conspirator to
look like the Queen of Sheba? That's not the
way to keep clear of spies."
"You'll never be able to personate the stupid
society woman if you try for ever.


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