"Who sent this ?" I demanded.
"Madame the Contessa Romani," replied Vincenzo with discreet gravity.
"There is a card attached, if the eccelenza will be pleased to look." I did look.

It was my wife's visiting-card, and on it was written in her own delicate penmanship-- "To remind the conte of his promised visit to-morrow." A sudden anger possessed me.

I crumpled up the dainty glossy bit of pasteboard and flung it aside.

The mingled odors of the fruit and flowers offended my senses.
"I care nothing for these trifles," I said, addressing Vincenzo almost impatiently.

"Take them to the little daughter of the hotel-keeper; she is a child, she will appreciate them.