But he believed that she was deluding herself, and he thought of something to say which would soften the somewhat cruel effect of his first look at her. But in such cases we cannot find anything delicate enough to console a woman for her decline and all he could do was to kiss her and tell her that she would still have lovers when she was a hundred, if she so wished.

“No,” said she, laughing. “I don’t wish to be another Ninon de Lenclos. So as not to grow old one has to be cold and idle. Love and work do not allow one to preserve oneself in that way … I hope I shall be able to retain my friends, that is all And that will be indeed enough.”

At that moment two charming little girls came hurrying into the drawing room, saying that supper was served The two travellers, having had theirs at Iseo, insisted that Madame Floriani should sit down to eat with her children. Salvator picked up the little girl he knew and the one he did not know and carried them both into the dining room; Karol who was afraid of being in the way, remained in the drawing room. But the two rooms were adjoining; the door remained open and the stucco walls were resonant Although he wished to remain plunged in his own private world and take no part in the events around him while he was in this house, he could see and hear everything, and he even listened, somewhat to his own annoyance.

“Now then,” Salvator was saying as he sat down at the table beside the children (and Karol noticed that when he was not in his immediate presence Salvator found it natural to use the familiar form of address with Madame Floriani) “allow me to wait on your children and yourself I already adore them as I always did, and even this charming little blond fairy who was not born then. You are the only one, Lucrezia, who can do everything better than anyone else, and that includes producing children.”

“You should say especially children. God has blessed me in this respect They are as good, sweet and easy to rear as they are fresh and healthy. Ah, look, here is another coming to say good night to me. Another one for you to meet, Salvator.”

Karol, who after trying to glance through a news-sheet had begun to walk about in the drawing room, cast an involuntary glance in the direction of the dining room, and saw a beautiful village girl enter, carrying a sleeping child in her arms.

“What a magnificent nurse,” cried Salvator, innocently.

“You slander her,” said Madame Floriani. “Say rather a Correggio Virgin with il divino bambino. In fact, my children had no other nurse but myself, and the two youngest were often fed in the wings, between two acts. Once I remember the public calling for me with such insistence after the first act, that I was obliged to come and take my bow with my child under my wrap. The two youngest were brought up in less disturbed conditions. This baby was weaned a long time ago. He is a child of two.”

“Upon my word, the one I see last always seems the most beautiful,” said Salvator, as he took the bambino from the maid’s hands. “He is a real cherub! I would very much like to kiss him, but I am afraid I will awaken him.”

“Don’t be afraid. Children who are healthy and play all day in the open air sleep very soundly. One should never deprive them of a caress; even if it gives them no pleasure, it brings them luck.”

“Oh yes, that’s your superstition,” said Salvator. “I remember! It’s a sweet idea, and I love it. You extend it even to people who have died. I remember that poor stage hand who was killed during one of your performances, when some scenery fell.”

“Ah yes, the poor man! You were there … It was during the time when I had my own company.”

“And you, so brave and admirable, had him carried to your dressing room, where he uttered his last sigh. What a scene!”

“Yes, indeed, it was more terrible than the one I had just played to the public. My costume was covered with the blood of the unfortunate man.”

“What a life was yours! You hadn’t the time to change, the play went on, you reappeared on the stage and the audience thought that this blood was part of the drama.”

“He was a poor fellow, married, with a family. His wife was there and from the stage I could hear her screaming and moaning in my dressing room. One has to be made of iron to endure the life of an actress.”

“Outwardly you are of iron, but I know that inwardly there is no one more humane and compassionate than you. I well remember that after the performance, when they removed the dead man, you approached him and kissed him on the forehead, saying that it would help his soul to enter his eternal rest. Moved by your example, the other actors did likewise, and I myself, to please you, had the courage to do the same, although men possess this virtue to a lesser degree than women in such cases. At the time it looked odd and seemed somewhat exaggerated; but things done from the heart go straight to the heart.