Vaguely, as he went through the rooms in search of Nina, the princess’s words echoed through his mind, and through some unknown train of suggestion he remembered that Miller, the butler in New York, had wished Nina a “safe return.”  The association of the two seemed ridiculous, yet a thought held:  Was it at all certain that she was going to return home?  Was he, perhaps, not going to return from Sicily?  He put himself in the category of idiots and banished the idea.  But the echo of the blessing that the princess had given him settled softly upon his sensibilities.  “God bless her!” he said almost aloud.

Presently he found Nina, unapproachably hemmed in, and too near the music to talk.  For a moment she hesitated, on the verge of extricating herself or encouraging him to enter the circle despite the general disturbance it must cause.  But the moment passed.  His lips framed “Good-by” and hers answered, both smiled brightly—­and that was the parting.

[Illustration:  “HIS LIPS FRAMED ‘GOOD-BY’ AND HERS ANSWERED, BOTH SMILED BRIGHTLY—­AND THAT WAS THE PARTING”]

Derby was in many ways a fatalist—­not one of those who thought that by sitting still the gifts from the horn of fortune would tumble into his lap; but one of those who believe (to use his own expression), in pegging away at the thing in hand; further than that, what was to be, would be.

As Derby descended the stairs he encountered the Countess Masco.  “Hello, John!” she exclaimed, and then as she held him by the arm, her voice came down to what for her was a low whisper; at twenty feet any one could have overheard her, but fortunately the hall was deserted, save for a couple of footmen standing at the green baize door that led to the outer stairs of the courtyard.  “Have you heard the news?  Giovanni Sansevero agreed to go on a cruise to Malta with Rosso, and Rosso won’t let him out of it!  You may imagine he does not relish leaving Rome just now, especially with you again out of the field!”

Derby was not given an opportunity either to accept or to resent her intrusion into his affairs, for the dashing lady immediately fled, and Derby went on.  As he waited for his cab, he felt inclined to go back and try to see Nina.  He was letting her drift very, very far away.  But while he was hesitating, his cab drove up, and without more ado he jumped into it and drove to his hotel.  As soon as he reached his room, he began a letter to Nina; but all the things he had vowed to himself not to say, swarmed to the very tip of his pen.  He threw it down, therefore, and tore up the paper that showed, under “Dear Nina,” an erased “Darl—­” After pacing the floor a while, he again picked up the pen, but this time he wrote to Mr. Randolph.  At the end of a letter of details relating to the mines, he added: