Coming round the table she took the forbidden book out of
Beatrice's hands, shut it up and put it back in its place. Beatrice made
no opposition, but raised her broad eyebrows wearily and folded her
hands in her lap.
"Of course, if you insist, I have nothing to say," she remarked, "any
more than I have anything to do since you will not let me read."
The Marchesa went back to her lounge and carefully arranged her
belongings and settled herself comfortably before she spoke.
"I think you are a little out of temper, Beatrice dear, or perhaps you
are hungry, my child. You so often are. San Miniato, what time is it?"
"A quarter before twelve," answered the Count.
"Of course you will breakfast with us. Ring the bell, dearest friend. We
will not wait any longer."
San Miniato rose and touched the button.
"You are as hospitable as you are good," he said. "But if you will
forgive me, I will not accept your invitation to-day. An old friend of
mine is at the other hotel for a few hours and I have promised to
breakfast with him. Will you excuse me?"
Beatrice made an almost imperceptible gesture of indifference with her
hand.
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