At any other time Mrs. Willoughby would perhaps have manoeuvred Minnie out of the room; but on the present occasion the advent of the Italian was an inexpressible relief.  Mrs. Willoughby was not prepared for a scene like this.  The manners, the language, and the acts of Rufus K. Gunn had filled her with simple horror.  She was actually bewildered, and her presence of mind was utterly gone.  As for Minnie, she was quite helpless, and sat, looking frightened.  The Baron Atramonte might have been one of the excellent of the earth—­he might have been brave and loyal and just and true and tender, but his manner was one to which they were unaccustomed, and consequently Mrs. Willoughby was quite overcome.

The arrival of Girasole, therefore, was greeted by her with joy.  She at once rose to meet him, and could not help infusing into her greeting a warmth which she had never shown him before.  Girasole’s handsome eyes sparkled with delight, and when Mrs. Willoughby pointedly made way for him to seat himself next to Minnie his cup of joy was full.  Mrs. Willoughby’s only idea at that moment was to throw some obstacle between Minnie and that “dreadful person” who claimed her as his own, and had taken such shocking liberties.  She did not know that Girasole was in Rome, and now accepted his arrival at that opportune moment as something little less than providential.

And now, actuated still by the idea of throwing further obstacles between Minnie and the Baron, she herself went over to the latter, and began a series of polite remarks about the weather and about Rome; while Girasole, eager to avail himself of his unexpected privilege, conversed with Minnie in a low voice in his broken English.

This arrangement was certainly not very agreeable to the Baron.  His flow of spirits seemed to be checked at once, and his volubility ceased.  He made only monosyllabic answers to Mrs. Willoughby’s remarks, and his eyes kept wandering, over beyond her to Minnie, and scrutinizing the Italian who was thus monopolizing her at the very moment when he was beginning to have a “realizing sense” of her presence.  He looked puzzled.  He could not understand it at all.  He felt that some wrong was done by somebody.  He fell into an ungracious mood.  He hated the Italian who had thus come between him and his happiness, and who chatted with Minnie, in his abominable broken English, just like an old acquaintance.  He couldn’t understand it.  He felt an unpleasant restraint thrown over him, and began to meditate a departure, and a call at some more favorable time later in the evening.  But he wanted to have a few more words with “Min,” and so he tried to “sit out” the Italian.

But the Italian was as determined as the American.  It was the first chance that he had had to get a word with Minnie since he was in Milan, and he was eager to avail himself of it.  Mrs. Willoughby, on her part, having thus discomfited the Baron, was not unmindful of the other danger; so she moved her seat to a position near enough to overlook and check Girasole, and then resumed those formal, chilling, heartless, but perfectly polite remarks which she had been administering to the Baron since Girasole’s arrival.