"It costs me," he told her, "six francs fifty a day--wine included."

"What!" cried she, mistrusting her ears.

"Yes," said he.

"Fudge!" said she, not to be caught with chaff.

"It sounds like a traveller's tale, I know; but that's so often the
bother with the truth," said he. "Truth is under no obligation to be
_vraisemblable_. I'm here _en pension_."

Lady Blanchemain sniffed.

"Does the Prince of Zelt-Neuminster take in boarders?" she inquired,
her nose in the air.

"Not exactly," said John. "But the Parroco of Sant' Alessina does. I
board at the presbytery."

"Oh," said Lady Blanchemain, beginning to see light, while her eyebrows
went up, went down. "You board at the presbytery?"

"For six francs fifty a day--wine included," chuckled John.

"Wine, and apparently the unhindered enjoyment of--the whole blessed
thing," supplemented she, with a reminder of his comprehensive gesture.

"Yes--the run of the house and garden, the freedom of the hills and
valley."