She looked towards the castle, while she spoke; and now she
rose, with the design, perhaps, of moving in that direction.
Peter felt that the moment had come for actualities.
"It seems improbable," he began,--and I 'm afraid you will
think there is a tiresome monotony in my purposes; but I am
here again to return Cardinal Udeschini's snuff box. He left
it in my garden."
"Oh--?" said the Duchessa. "Yes, he thought he must have left
it there. He is always mislaying it. Happily, he has another,
for emergencies. It was very good of you to trouble to bring
it back."
She gave a light little laugh..
"I may also improve this occasion," Peter abruptly continued,
"to make my adieux. I shall be leaving for England in a few
days now."
The Duchessa raised her eyebrows.
"Really?" she said. "Oh, that is too bad," she added, by way
of comment. "October, you know, is regarded as the best month
of all the twelve, in this lake country."
"Yes, I know it," Peter responded regretfully.
"And it is a horrid month in England," she went on.
"It is an abominable month in England," he acknowledged.
"Here it is blue, like larkspur, and all fragrant of the
vintage, and joyous with the songs of the vintagers," she said.
"There it is dingy-brown, and songless, and it smells of
smoke."
"Yes," he agreed.
"But you are a sportsman? You go in for shooting?" she
conjectured.
"No," he answered. "I gave up shooting years ago."
"Oh--? Hunting, then?"
"I hate hunting. One is always getting rolled on by one's
horse."
"Ah, I see. It--it will be golf, perhaps?"
"No, it is not even golf."
"Don't tell me it is football?"
"Do I look as if it were football?"
"It is sheer homesickness, in fine? You are grieving for the
purple of your native heather?"
"There is scarcely any heather in my native county. No," said
Peter, "no. To tell you the truth, it is the usual thing. It
is an histoire de femme."
"I 'might have guessed it," she exclaimed. "It is still that
everlasting woman."
"That everlasting woman--?" Peter faltered.
"To be sure," said she. "The woman you are always going on
about. The woman of your novel. This woman, in short."