RODERICK HUDSON
ina," she said, turning to Rowland. She began to count on her fingers, "We 've to go to the Piè di Marmo to see about those laces that were sent to be washed. You said also that you wished to say three sharp words to the Buonvicini about your pink dress. You want some moss rosebuds for to-night, and you won't get them for nothing! You dine at the Austrian Embassy, and that Frenchman 's to powder your hair. You 're to come home in time to receive, for the signora gives a dance. And so away, away till morning!"
"Ah, yes, the moss roses!"—Christina rose to this vision. "I must have a great lot—at least a hundred. Nothing but buds, eh? You must sew them in a kind of immense apron down the front of my dress. Packed tight together, eh? It will be delightfully barbarous. And then twenty more or so for my hair. They go very well with powder; don't you think so?" And she turned to Rowland. "I'm going en Pompadour."
"Going where?"
"To the Spanish Embassy, or whatever it is."
"All down the front, signorina? Dio buono! You must give me time!" Assunta cried.
"Yes, we'll go!" And she left her place. She walked slowly to the door of the church, looking at the pavement, and Rowland could n't have guessed if she were thinking of her apron of moss rosebuds or of her opportunity for a spiritual flight. Before reaching the door she turned away and stood gazing at an old picture, indistinguishable with blackness, over an altar. At last they passed out into the court.
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