Suddenly his head dived: 'Nothing, nothing, signorina,' he said, brushing delicately at her dress; 'I thought it might be paint.' He smiled to reassure her, and then he dived again, murmuring: 'It must be something sticking to the dress.

Pardon me.' With that he went to the bell.

'I will ring up my daughter's maid.

Or Laura--where is Laura ?' The Signora Piaveni had walked to the window.

This antiquated fussiness of the dilettante little nobleman was sickening to her.
'Probably you expect to discover a revolutionary symbol in the lines of the signorina's dress,' she said.
'A revolutionary symbol!--my dear! my dear!' The count reproved his daughter.