When she returned, an hour afterwards, there was a dry glitter in her
eyes, which increased to a look of fever when she opened the
drawing-room door and saw who was waiting there. It was the Mayor
himself. The little oily man in patent-leather boots, holding upright
his glossy silk hat, was clearly nervous and confused. He complimented
her on her appearance, looked out of the window, extolled the view, and
finally, with his back to his hostess, began on his business.
"It is about your letter, you know," he said awkwardly. "There seems to
be a little misunderstanding on your part. About the fountain, I mean."
"None whatever, Senator. You ordered it. I have executed it. Surely the
matter is quite simple."
"Impossible, my dear. I may have encouraged you to an experimental
trial. We all do that. Rome is eager to discover genius. But a simple
member of a corporate body cannot undertake ... that is to say, on his
own responsibility, you know...."
Roma's breath began to come quickly. "Do you mean that you didn't
commission my fountain?"
"How could I, my child? Such matters must go through a regular form. The
proper committee must sanction and resolve...."
"But everybody has known of this, and it has been generally understood
from the first."
"Ah, understood! Possibly! Rumour and report perhaps."
"But I could bring witnesses--high witnesses--the very highest if needs
be...."
The little man smiled benevolently.
"Surely there is no witness of any standing in the State who would go
into a witness-box and say that, without a contract, and with only a few
encouraging words...."
The dry glitter in Roma's eyes shot into a look of anger. "Do you call
your letters to me a few encouraging words only?" she said.
"My letters?" the glossy hat was getting ruffled.
"Your letters alluding to this matter, and enumerating the favours you
wished me to ask of the Prime Minister."
"My dear," said the Mayor after a moment, "I'm sorry if I have led you
to build up hopes, and though I have no authority ... if it will end
matters amicably ... I think I can promise ... I might perhaps promise a
little money for your loss of time."
"Do you suppose I want charity?"
"Charity, my dear?"
"What else would it be? If I have no right to everything I will have
nothing. I will take none of your money. You can leave me."