"Thank you so much," said the Princess graciously. "It smells, you
know."

"Of course," answered the Baroness. "It is not coffee at all! It is
made of chicory and acorns."

"I do not know what it is made of," said the Princess, without
interest, "but it has an atrociously bad smell, and it has made a
green stain on my handkerchief."

She looked at the bit of transparently fine linen with which she had
touched her lips, and threw it under the table.

"And Sabina?" began the Baroness. "What shall you do with her?"

"I wish I knew! You see, my daughter-in-law has a little place
somewhere in the Maremma. It is an awful hole, I believe, and very
unhealthy, but we shall have to stay there for a few days. Then I
shall go to Poland and see my brother. I am sure he can arrange
everything at once, and we shall come back to Rome in the autumn, of
course, just as usual. Sassi told me only last week that two or three
millions would be enough. And what is that? My brother is so rich!"

The stout Princess shrugged her shoulders carelessly, as if a few
millions of francs more or less could really not be such a great
matter. Somebody had always found money for her to spend, and there
was no reason why obliging persons should not continue to do the same.
The Baroness showed no surprise, but wondered whether the Princess
might not have to lunch, and dine too, on some nauseous little mess
brought to her on a battered brass tray. It was quite possible that