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She made
all kinds of polite enquiries, and indicated the various sites and
persons of interest; while Don Francesco, he observed, had
unaccountably recovered from his sudden attack of bad humour on the
steamer.
"And that is where I live," she said, pointing to a large and sever
structure whose walls had plainly not been whitewashed for many long
years. "It's an old disused convent, built by the Good Duke Alfred.
Wasn't it, Denis?"
"I really couldn't say, Duchess. I never heard of the gentleman."
"That Good Duke was an unmitigated ruffian," observed Don Francesco.
"Oh, don't say that! Think of all the good he did for the island. Think
of that frieze in the church! I have acres and acres of rooms to walk
about in," she continued, addressing the bishop. "All by myself! I'm
quite a hermit, you know. You will perhaps be able to have a cup of tea
with me to-day?"
"Not exactly a hermit," Denis interposed.
"To take tea with the Duchess is an experience, a revelation," said Don
Francesco in judicial tones.


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