Knarborough and bring back the naughty Ciccio. Come with me, because
I haven't all my strength. Yes, you will? Good! Good! Let us tell
the young men, and we will go now, on the tram-car."
"But I am not properly dressed," said Alvina.
"Who will see?" said Madame. "Come, let us go."
They told Geoffrey they would meet him at the corner of Hampden
Street at five minutes to eleven.
"You see," said Madame to Alvina, "they are very funny, these young
men, particularly Italians. You must never let them think you have
caught them. Perhaps he will not let us see him--who knows? Perhaps
he will go off to Italy all the same."
They sat in the bumping tram-car, a long and wearying journey. And
then they tramped the dreary, hideous streets of the manufacturing
town. At the corner of the street they waited for Geoffrey, who rode
up muddily on his bicycle.
"Ask Ciccio to come out to us, and we will go and drink coffee at
the Geisha Restaurant--or tea or something," said Madame.
Again the two women waited wearily at the street-end. At last
Geoffrey returned, shaking his head.
"He won't come?" cried Madame.
"No."
"He says he is going back to Italy?"
"To London."
"It is the same. You can never trust them. Is he quite obstinate?"
Geoffrey lifted his shoulders. Madame could see the beginnings of
defection in him too. And she was tired and dispirited.
"We shall have to finish the Natcha-Kee-Tawara, that is all," she
said fretfully.
Geoffrey watched her stolidly, impassively.
"Dost thou want to go with him?" she asked suddenly.
Geoffrey smiled sheepishly, and his colour deepened. But he did not
speak.
"Go then--" she said. "Go then! Go with him! But for the sake of my
honour, finish this week at Woodhouse. Can I make Miss Houghton's
father lose these two nights? Where is your shame? Finish this week
and then go, go--But finish this week. Tell Francesco that. I have
finished with him. But let him finish this engagement. Don't put me
to shame, don't destroy my honour, and the honour of the
Natcha-Kee-Tawara. Tell him that."
Geoffrey turned again into the house. Madame, in her chic little
black hat and spotted veil, and her trim black coat-and-skirt, stood
there at the street-corner staring before her, shivering a little
with cold, but saying no word of any sort.
Again Geoffrey appeared out of the doorway. His face was impassive.
"He says he doesn't want," he said.
"Ah!" she cried suddenly in French, "the ungrateful, the animal! He
shall suffer. See if he shall not suffer. The low canaille, without
faith or feeling. My Max, thou wert right. Ah, such canaille should
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