He was a handsome bright-eyed fellow, with a soldier’s frame and a smile as broad and beaming as laughter, indicating much of that mixture of acuteness, and simplicity which is a characteristic of the South, and means no more than that the extreme vivacity of the blood exceeds at times that of the brain.

A curious frown of half-amused astonishment hung on the signorina’s face.

“When I tell you to go, Beppo!”

At once the man threw out his fingers, accompanied by an amazingly voluble delivery of his reasons for this revolt against her authority.  Among other things, he spoke of an oath sworn by him to a foreign gentleman, his patron,—­for whom, and for whomsoever he loved, he was ready to pour forth his heart’s blood,—­to the effect that he would never quit her side when she left the roof of her house.

“You see, Beppo,” she remonstrated, “I am among friends.”

Beppo gave a sweeping bow, but remained firm where he stood.  Ammiani cast a sharp hard look at the man.

“Do you hear the signorina’s orders?”

“I hear them, signore.”

“Will you obey them?”

She interposed.  “He must not hear quick words.  Beppo is only showing his love for his master and for me.  But you are wrong in this case, my Beppo.  You shall give me your protection when I require it; and now, you are sensible, and must understand that it is not wanted.  I tell you to go.”

Beppo read the eyes of his young mistress.

“Signorina,”—­he stooped forward mysteriously,—­“signorina, that fellow is in Baveno.  I saw him this morning.”

“Good, good.  And now go, my friend.”

“The signor Agostino,” he remarked loudly, to attract the old man; “the signor Agostino may think proper to advise you.”

“The signor Agostino will laugh at nothing that you say to-day, Beppo.  You will obey me.  Go at once,” she repeated, seeing him on tiptoe to gain Agostino’s attention.

Beppo knew by her eyes that her ears were locked against him; and, though she spoke softly, there was an imperiousness in her voice not to be disregarded.  He showed plainly by the lost rigidity of his attitude that he was beaten and perplexed.  Further expostulations being disregarded, he turned his head to look at the poor panting beast under his charge, and went slowly up to him:  they walked off together, a crest-fallen pair.

“You have gained the victory, signorina,” said Ugo Corte.

She replied, smiling, “My poor Beppo! it’s not difficult to get the best of those who love us.”

“Ha!” cried Agostino; “here is one of their secrets, Carlo.  Take heed of it, my boy.  We shall have queens when kings are fossils, mark me!”

Ammiani muttered a courtly phrase, whereat Corte yawned in very grim fashion.