"Nevertheless," said Roma, "that is what I intend to do. Good-morning!"
Lena had barely crossed the doorstep when a more important person drove
up. This was the Senator Palomba, Mayor of Rome, a suave, oily man, with
little twinkling eyes.
"Come to offer you my sympathy, my dear! Scandalous libels. Liberty of
the press, indeed! Disgraceful! It's in all the newspapers--I've brought
them with me. One journal actually points at you personally. See--'A
lady sculptor who has recently secured a commission from the
Municipality through the influence of a distinguished person.' Most
damaging, isn't it? The elections so near, too! We must publicly deny
the statement. Ah, don't be alarmed! Only way out of a nest of hornets.
Nothing like diplomacy, you know. Of course the Municipality will buy
your fountain just the same, but I thought I would come round and
explain before publishing anything."
Roma said nothing, and the great man backed himself out with the air of
one who had conferred a favour, but before going he had a favour to ask
in return.
"It's rumoured this morning, my dear, that the Government is about to
organise a system of secret police--and quite right, too. You remember
my nephew, Charles Minghelli? I brought him here when he came from
Paris. Well, Charles would like to be at the head of the new force. The
very man! Finds out everything that happens, from the fall of a pin to
an attempt at revolution, and if Donna Roma will only say a word for
him.... Thanks!... What a beautiful bust! Yours, of course? A
masterpiece! Fit to put beside the masterpieces of old Rome."
The Mayor was not yet out of the drawing-room when a third visitor was
in the hall. It was Madame Sella, a fashionable modiste, with social
pretensions, who contrived to live on terms of quasi-intimacy with her
aristocratic customers.
"Trust I am not de trop! I knew you wouldn't mind my calling in the
morning. What a scandalous speech of that agitator yesterday! Everybody
is talking about it. In fact, people say you will go away. It isn't
true, is it? No? So glad! So relieved!... By the way, my dear, don't
trouble about those stupid bills of mine, but ... I'm giving a little
reception next week, and if the Baron would only condescend ... you'll
mention it? A thousand thanks! Good-morning!"
"Count Mario," announced Felice, and an effeminate old dandy came
tripping into the room. He was Roma's landlord and the Italian
Ambassador at St. Petersburg.
"So good of you to see me, Donna Roma. Such an uncanonical hour, too,
but I do hope the Baron will not be driven to resign office on account
of these malicious slanders. You think not? So pleased!"