Had Susan been present, she would have felt very apprehensive at the pleasant, matter-of-fact way in which her ladyship greeted Amaldi. But Sophy was simple-minded enough to be greatly relieved by it. She explained about Susan—that Amaldi had just returned from seeing her off for America. Lady Wychcote seemed really shocked to hear of Miss Pickett's trouble.

"And what a loss to you, too!" she said. "I can't conceive of anything more odious than having a hireling for a companion. Of course you will have a companion...?"

"Of course!" said Sophy.

Then her ladyship explained how she came to be in Venice. Her brother, Colonel Bollingham, and his wife had persuaded her to join them at a moment's notice.

Sophy felt that now Susan was gone, she ought to ask her mother-in-law to stop with her. She did so. Lady Wychcote said thanks—but that it would hurt poor dear Mildred's feelings to be plantÉ like that.

"However," she added, "if you're going to be here longer than a week, I might take advantage of your offer. James and Mildred are going to Bordighera next week ... and I detest Bordighera...."

Sophy replied, with a hesitation in her heart which she did not think apparent in her voice but which Lady Wychcote discerned there, that she had intended stopping for at least three weeks longer—but now that Sue had gone she thought of returning to Breene in a few days.

"If you would stay with me, though," she ended, "then I shouldn't feel that I had to hurry off."

"Thanks," said Lady Wychcote. "I'll let you know later."

She left a few minutes afterwards. Amaldi left with her. He disliked her as much as Susan did, and felt that he must be very careful not to give her a wrong impression of his relations with Sophy.

Later, when Sophy came to reflect, she felt as apprehensive about her mother-in-law's sudden appearance in Venice as even Susan could have wished. She knew that unlike so many of her compatriots, Lady Wychcote did not care a fig about Italy. On the contrary, she was in the habit of extolling France as a far more delightful place in every way.

During the following week Sophy was very careful not to see Amaldi often, and went about a good deal with Lady Wychcote. Barti had not turned up yet.

The days passed in this rather dreary fashion, until the time had come for the Bollinghams to leave. They were to set off Tuesday and on Tuesday afternoon Lady Wychcote was to come to the Rio San Vio to stop with Sophy until they both returned to England.

On Sunday Barti arrived in Venice. He was a short, rotund man of about sixty, with a grizzled black beard, and the grey-blue eyes under black lashes that one sees so often in clever Lombards. He loved the "ragazzi Amaldi," as he called them, as if they had been his own sons. Marco had confided to him his reasons for wishing to be divorced. He had spoken in a rather dry, curt fashion, but Barti realised fully what this passion must mean to him. Marco had always been his favourite of the two "boys," and men of the type of Marco did not change the views of a lifetime except for the most vital reasons.

As soon as Amaldi saw Barti, he knew that the lawyer had no very reassuring news to give him. They met at Barti's hotel in his bedroom so as to be quite private.

"Well?" said Amaldi.

Barti began skirting the subject from different points of view. It seemed that in Switzerland, at that date, proceedings for divorce on the ground of adultery had to be brought within six months of the knowledge of the fact. So that Amaldi would not be able to obtain divorce in respect of his wife's original misconduct with her first lover. He could, however, obtain the divorce in respect of any subsequent misconduct of hers if proceedings were instituted within six months of such misconduct becoming known to him.

Here, Amaldi, who had been very pale, flushed darkly. He parted his lips as if to speak, and the old lawyer said nervously:

"Wait ... wait just a moment, caro mio ... there are ... er ... other difficulties...."

Amaldi kept silence. He sat looking out of the window, and now his face was quite impassive; but it hurt Barti to see the strained quiet of that impassive face. These "other difficulties" that he had to tell of were even more painful. He went on to state them as rapidly and clearly as he could. In any case, as they knew already, in order to qualify for a divorce in Switzerland Amaldi would have to become a Swiss citizen. To do so, he would have to get the consent of the local authority and the State authority. The first was comparatively easy, the second exceedingly difficult to obtain. As Marco might remember, a famous Italian author had attempted to divorce his wife in this way, but the Swiss Government decided that they would not let their citizenship be obtained for such an object.

Amaldi here interrupted quietly.

"Then, my dear Barti," he said, "I have only to thank you for all your trouble. I don't see that we need discuss the matter any further...."

"Pazienza.... Pazienza!..." murmured Barti. "On the contrary ... there are many things to consider...."

"I don't see...." Amaldi began rather vehemently.

"Prego ... but I see.... You must allow me," returned the other. "This is painful, I know ... for me as well as for you...." he added, with some feeling.

Amaldi said in a different tone, but without looking at him:

"Yes. I know it is. Forgive me. Go on."

Barti then said that it might be possible for the citizenship to be obtained without the disclosure of its object, though this would be extraordinarily difficult.

"In fact," he wound up, "I am afraid that in your case it would be practically impossible. The head of a noble Italian family does not apply for Swiss citizenship without some very unusual object, and in my opinion the authorities would be sure to demand for what object the Marchese Amaldi wished to become a Swiss."

Amaldi got to his feet this time.

"Then, really...." he began.

"Caro Marco ... I beg of you to let me finish," pleaded Barti.

He, too, was pale by now, and he snatched off his eyeglasses, breathing nervously upon them, and squinting slightly with his short-sighted eyes, in the stress of the moment.

"Switzerland is not the only country in the world," he hurried on, polishing and repolishing the glasses as he spoke, very glad not to be able to see Amaldi's set, white face more clearly. "I have made inquiries, and it seems that in Hungary...."

"'Hungary'!" echoed Amaldi. He gave a short laugh. "But I beg your pardon. Go on, please...." he said gravely the next moment.

"And why not Hungary?" Barti demanded, with a show of impatience which he was far from feeling. "For my part, I think I should prefer a Hungarian citizenship. It seems that in Hungary there is a process of adoption...."

Again Amaldi echoed him.

"'Adoption'!" he exclaimed, with even more emphasis than before. "My dear Barti, excuse me—but I hadn't realised that the thing would be ridiculous as well as humiliating."

Then he checked himself, walking to and fro in the small room several times. The other sat watching him in silence.

Presently he stopped in front of Barti and looked down at him with a rather wry but affectionate smile.

"Forgive me, dear Barti," he said. "You've gone to no end of trouble for me, and I act like a bad-tempered tousin. Will you please go on about ... Hungary?"

Barti rushed into suggestions now. He wished, he said, with Amaldi's consent, to go forthwith to Hungary and make a thorough investigation of the legal questions involved.

"Ma!... Go if you think best," Amaldi said, when he had ended. Then added with irrepressible bitterness: "After all, what difference does it make to what country I sell my birthright?"

"Caro mio ... caro mio!..." muttered the old man, much upset.

"You understand, Barti," returned Amaldi quickly, "I am quite determined to be free if possible. I...." he hesitated, then went on emphatically: "I count it a small price to pay. What makes me bitter is that an Italian should not be able to free himself from a worthless woman in his own country. Yes, Barti, that makes me bitter, I confess."

They spoke together a few moments longer. When Amaldi left, it had been decided that Barti was to leave for Buda-Pesth that night.

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