about. If she is not a consummate coquette. . . . . What had she in her head when she said that I should not have gone away?—Poor little Stanmer didn't go away. I left him there at midnight.
12th.—I found him to-day sitting in the church of Santa Croce, into which I wandered to escape from the heat of the sun.
In the nave it was cool and dim; he was staring at the blaze of candles on the great altar, and thinking, I am sure, of his incomparable Countess. I sat down beside him, and after a while, as if to avoid the appearance of eagerness, he asked me how I had enjoyed my visit to Casa Salvi, and what I thought of the padrona.
"I think half a dozen things," I said; "but I can only tell you one now. She's an enchantress. You shall hear the rest when we have left the church."
"An enchantress?" repeated Stanmer, looking at me askance.
He is a very simple youth, but who am I to blame him?
"A charmer," I said; "a fascinatress!"
He turned away, staring at the altar-candles.
