How she wished she had a brother come to spend Christmas with her! It would, at all events, be more amusing than sitting at dinner opposite to Monsieur l'Abbé, which would certainly be her fate the following evening. From all of which reflections it may be gathered that Bianca was not deriving as much spiritual benefit from her attendance at mass as could be desired. Perhaps the thought struck her, for she turned somewhat hastily to Bettina, only to see an expression on that worthy woman's face which puzzled her. It was a curious expression, half-uneasy and half-humorous, and Bianca remembered it afterwards.
The three masses came to an end at last, and to the calm, sweet music of the Pastoral symphony from Händel's _Messiah_ (for the organist at the Sudario, unlike the majority of his colleagues in Rome, was a musician and an artist) the congregation slowly left the church, its members exchanging Christmas greetings with their friends before going home to supper. Bettina hurried her charge through the throng, never slackening speed until they had left the building and turned down a by-street out of the crowd thronging the Corso Vittorio Emmanuele. Even then she glanced nervously over her shoulder from time to time, as though to make sure they were not being followed.
The rain had ceased by this time, and the moon shone in a deep violet sky, softening the grim mass of the Caetani and Antici-Mattei palaces which frowned above them. Presently Bettina halted under a flickering gas-lamp.
"A fine thing, truly," she exclaimed, abruptly, "to go to a midnight mass to stare at a good-looking boy--under the very nose, too, speaking with respect, of the _santissimo_!"
Bianca flushed. "He looked at me!" she said, indignantly.
"It is the same thing," returned Bettina--"at least," she added, "it is generally the same thing--in the end. Holy Virgin! what would her excellency say--and Monsieur l'Abbé--if they knew such a thing? And the insolence of it! He looked--and looked! Signorina, it is a thing unheard of--"
"What thing?" interrupted Bianca, tranquilly.
"What thing?" repeated Bettina, somewhat taken aback. "Why--why--oh, well," she added, hastily, "it doesn't matter what thing--only, for the love of God, signorina, do not let her excellency know that you spoke to the Signorina Rossano to-night!"