At the time of which I am speaking Flavia was a slight, graceful woman of forty years or thereabouts, retaining much of the brilliant prettiness which served her for beauty, and conspicuous always for her extremely bright eyes. She was of the type of women who live to a great age.
She had not expected to see Sant' Ilario, and as she gave her hand, she looked up at him with an air of inquiry. It would have been like him to say that he had come to see her husband and not herself, for he had no tact with persons whom he did not especially like. There are such people in the world.
"Will you give me a cup of tea, Flavia?" he asked, as he sat down, after shaking hands with Spicca.
"Have you at last heard that your cousin's tea is good?" inquired the latter, who was surprised by Giovanni's coming.
"I am afraid it is cold," said Flavia, looking into the teapot, as though she could discover the temperature by inspection.
"It is no matter," answered Giovanni absently.
He was wondering how he could lead the conversation to the discussion of Madame d'Aranjuez.
"You belong to the swallowers," observed Spicca, lighting a fresh cigarette. "You swallow something, no matter what, and you are satisfied."
"It is the simplest way--one is never disappointed."
"It is a pity one cannot swallow people in the same way," said Flavia with a laugh.
"Most people do," answered Spicca viciously.
"Were you at the Jubilee on the first day?" asked Giovanni, addressing Flavia.
"That is true. By the bye, I saw that excellent Donna Tullia there. I wonder whose ticket she had."
"She had the Princess Befana's," answered Spicca, who knew everything. "The old lady happened to be dying--she always dies at the beginning of the season--it used to be for economy, but it has become a habit--and so Del Ferice bought her card of her servant for his wife."
"Who was the lady who sat with her?" asked Giovanni, delighted with his own skill.
"You ought to know!" exclaimed Flavia. "We all saw Orsino take her out. That is the famous, the incomparable Madame d'Aranjuez--the most beautiful of Spanish princesses according to to-day's paper. I daresay you have seen the account of the Del Ferice party. She is no more Spanish than Alexander the Great. Is she, Spicca?"