It was queer enough to have a question of money with her at all. I assured her that her views perfectly met my own and that on the morrow I should have the pleasure of putting three months' rent into her hand. She received this announcement with apparent complacency and with no discoverable sense that after all it would become her to say that I ought to see the rooms first. This did n't occur to her, and indeed her serenity was mainly what I wanted. Our little agreement was just concluded when the door opened and the younger lady appeared on the threshold. As soon as Miss Bordereau saw her niece she cried out almost gaily: »He'll give three thousand – three thousand to-morrow!«

Miss Tina stood still, her patient eyes turning from one of us to the other; then she brought out, scarcely above her breath: »Do you mean francs?«

»Did you mean francs or dollars?« the old woman asked of me at this.

»I think francs were what you said,« I sturdily smiled.

»That's very good,« said Miss Tina, as if she had felt how overreaching her own question might have looked.

»What do you know? You're ignorant,« Miss Bordereau remarked; not with acerbity but with a strange soft coldness.

»Yes, of money – certainly of money!« Miss Tina hastened to concede.

»I'm sure you've your own fine branches of knowledge,« I took the liberty of saying genially. There was something painful to me, somehow, in the turn the conversation had taken, in the discussion of dollars and francs.

»She had a very good education when she was young. I looked into that myself,« said Miss Bordereau. Then she added: »But she has learned nothing since.«

»I've always been with you,« Miss Tina rejoined very mildly, and of a certainty with no intention of an epigram.

»Yes, but for that –!« her aunt declared with more satirical force. She evidently meant that but for this her niece would never have got on at all; the point of the observation however being lost on Miss Tina, though she blushed at hearing her history revealed to a stranger. Miss Bordereau went on, addressing herself to me: »And what time will you come to-morrow with the money?«

»The sooner the better. If it suits you I'll come at noon.«

»I'm always here, but I have my hours,« said the old woman as if her convenience were not to be taken for granted.

»You mean the times when you receive?«

»I never receive. But I'll see you at noon, when you come with the money.«

»Very good, I shall be punctual.« To which I added: »May I shake hands with you on our contract?« I thought there ought to be some little form; it would make me really feel easier, for I was sure there would be no other. Besides, though Miss Bordereau could n't to-day be called personally attractive and there was something even in her wasted antiquity that bade one stand at one's distance, I felt an irresistible desire to hold in my own for a moment the hand Jeffrey Aspern had pressed.

For a minute she made no answer, and I saw that my proposal failed to meet with her approbation. She indulged in no movement of withdrawal, which I half-expected; she only said coldly: »I belong to a time when that was not the custom.«

I felt rather snubbed but I exclaimed good-humouredly to Miss Tina »Oh you'll do as well!« I shook hands with her while she assented with a small flutter. »Yes, yes, to show it's all arranged!«

»Shall you bring the money in gold?« Miss Bordereau demanded as I was turning to the door.

I looked at her a moment. »Are n't you a little afraid, after all, of keeping such a sum as that in the house?« It was not that I was annoyed at her avidity, but was truly struck with the disparity between such a treasure and such scanty means of guarding it.

»Whom should I be afraid of if I'm not afraid of you?« she asked with her shrunken grimness.

»Ah well,« I laughed, »I shall be in point of fact a protector and I'll bring gold if you prefer.«

»Thank you,« the old woman returned with dignity and with an inclination of her head which evidently signified my dismissal. I passed out of the room, thinking how hard it would be to circumvent her. As I stood in the sala again I saw that Miss Tina had followed me, and I supposed that as her aunt had neglected to suggest I should take a look at my quarters it was her purpose to repair the omission. But she made no such overture; she only stood there with a dim, though not a languid smile, and with an effect of irresponsible incompetent youth almost comically at variance with the faded facts of her person. She was not infirm, like her aunt, but she struck me as more deeply futile, because her inefficiency was inward, which was not the case with Miss Bordereau's. I waited to see if she would offer to show me the rest of the house, but I did n't precipitate the question, inasmuch as my plan was from this moment to spend as much of my time as possible in her society. A minute indeed elapsed before I committed myself.

»I've had better fortune than I hoped. It was very kind of her to see me. Perhaps you said a good word for me.«

»It was the idea of the money,« said Miss Tina.

»And did you suggest that?«

»I told her you'd perhaps pay largely.«

»What made you think that?«

»I told her I thought you were rich.«

»And what put that into your head?«

»I don't know; the way you talked.«

»Dear me, I must talk differently now,« I returned. »I'm sorry to say it's not the case.«

»Well,« said Miss Tina, »I think that in Venice the forestieri in general often give a great deal for something that after all is n't much.« She appeared to make this remark with a comforting intention, to wish to remind me that if I had been extravagant I was n't foolishly singular. We walked together along the sala, and as I took its magnificent measure I observed that I was afraid it would n't form a part of my quartiere. Were my rooms by chance to be among those that opened into it? »Not if you go above – to the second floor,« she answered as if she had rather taken for granted I would know my proper place.

»And I infer that that's where your aunt would like me to be.«

»She said your apartments ought to be very distinct.«

»That certainly would be best.« And I listened with respect while she told me that above I should be free to take whatever I might like; that there was another staircase, but only from the floor on which we stood, and that to pass from it to the garden-level or to come up to my lodging I should have in effect to cross the great hall. This was an immense point gained; I foresaw that it would constitute my whole leverage in my relations with the two ladies. When I asked Miss Tina how I was to manage at present to find my way up she replied with an access of that sociable shyness which constantly marked her manner:

»Perhaps you can't.