Gemma glanced round at him in some trepidation;
his impudence was too glaring, surely, to
deceive anyone. But she had underrated Signora
Grassini's appetite for compliments; the poor
woman cast down her lashes with a sigh.
"Ah, signore, it is so little that a woman can
do! Perhaps some day I may prove my right to
the name of an Italian--who knows? And now
I must go back to my social duties; the French
ambassador has begged me to introduce his ward
to all the notabilities; you must come in presently
and see her. She is a most charming girl.
Gemma, dear, I brought Signor Rivarez out to
show him our beautiful view; I must leave him
under your care. I know you will look after him
and introduce him to everyone. Ah! there is
that delightful Russian prince! Have you met
him? They say he is a great favourite of the
Emperor Nicholas. He is military commander
of some Polish town with a name that nobody can
pronounce. Quelle nuit magnifique! N'est-ce-pas,
mon prince?"
She fluttered away, chattering volubly to a
bull-necked man with a heavy jaw and a coat glittering
with orders; and her plaintive dirges for
"notre malheureuse patrie," interpolated with
"charmant" and "mon prince," died away along
the terrace.
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