THREE

"Yes, am I not telling you? The Champion - Darry Boa, you know - is to fight SteveAngelo tomorrow at some place or another around here. I did not perfectly catch the name. Thank God my dear, you had the good sense to reserve rooms for us, for they say there is no vacant room twenty miles from here! Come, come, don't be idling any longer, Lizzy!"

The news that she had come to Florence on the eve of a prizefight could scarcely afford Miss Tellaro any form of gratification, but from having spent the greater part of her life in the company of her father and brother, and from having been used to hear a good deal of conversation about manly sports and to think them perfectly proper for gentlemen to take part in, she readily shared in Patrick's desire to be present at this fight. For herself, she had rather be anywhere else but there. Prizefighting could only disgust her, and although there would naturally be no question of her being a witness is the event, she must expect to hear all about it second handedly, and to fine herself in every probability, the only female in an inn full to overflowing with sporting gentlemen. She did attempt a slight objection, without however, much hope of being listened to. 

"But Patrick, consider! If the fight is scheduled for tomorrow, this is Saturday, and we must stay here until Monday, for you would not like to travel on Sunday. You know we were counting on being in Rome tomorrow". 

"Oh, Lizzy, what in the world does that matter?" he replied. "I would not miss this fight for a hundred pounds! I tell you what: you may explore your Roman ruins as much as you desire. You know that is what you wanted. And only to think of it! Boa and SteveAngelo! You must have heard me speak of the fight last year, and wish I was there. Thirty three rounds, and the black resigned! But they say he is in better shape today. It will be a great mill: you would not wish me to miss it! Why, when they met before, it lasted fifty five minutes! They must be devilishly even-matched. Do come down, Lizzy!"

No, Miss Tellaro would not wish Patrick to miss anything that could give him pleasure. She picked up the Traveller's Guide, and her little hand bag, and by taking his hand, she stepped down from the chaise into the courtyard. 

The landlord met them upon their entrance into the Inn but seemed to have very little time to bestow on them. The coffee room was already crowded and there were over a dozen gentlemen of consequence demanding his attention. Rooms? There was not a corner of his house not spoken for. He would advice them to have a fresh team put to their chaise and drive on to Osteria or Quattro Vie. He did not know, he believed there was not an Inn with accommodation to offer, on this side of Florence. He was sorry, but they would understand that the occasion was extraordinary, and all his bed chambers had been engaged for few days before now. 

This, however, would not do for Elizabeth Tellaro, who was accustomed her whole life to command. "There is some mistake", she spoke in her cool decided voice. "I am Miss Tellaro. You should have had my letter a full week ago. I require two bed chambers, accommodation for my maid, and for my brother's valet, who will be here very soon, and a private parlor". 

The landlord threw up his hands in a gesture of despair, but he was impressed a little by her air of authority. He had been at first inclined to underrate a couple so modestly dressed, but the mention of a maid and a valet convinced him that he had to do with persons of quality, whom he would not wish to offend. He embarked on an attempt of explanation and apology. He was sure Miss Tellaro would not like to stay under the circumstances. 

Elizabeth raised her brows. "Indeed! I fancy I am the best judge of that. I will forgo the private parlor, but be good enough to make some arrangement for our bed chambers at once". 

"It is impossible, ma'am!" the landlord declared. "The house is as full as it can hold. Every room has very spoken for! I should have to turn out some gentleman to oblige you". 

"Then do so", Elizabeth was enraged. 

The landlord looked imploringly toward Patrick. "You must see, sir, I can't help myself. I'm very sorry for the fault, but there's no help for it, and indeed the company is not as the lady would like". 

"Elizabeth, it does seem like we shall have to go somewhere else", Patrick pleaded reasonably. "Perhaps Osteria, I could see the fight from there, or even farther". 

"Certainly not", Elizabeth said firmly. "You heard what this man said, that he believes there is not a room to be had around this side of Florence. I do not want to go on such a wild-goose chase. Our rooms were spoken for here over a week ago, and if a mistake has been made it must be set right".

Her voice, which was very clear, seemed to have reached the ears of a group of people standing against the window. One or two curious glances were directed toward her, and after a moment's hesitation, a man who had been watching Miss Tellaro from the start came across the room, and slightly bowed to her.

"I beg your pardon, I do not wish to intrude, but there seems to be some huddle. I would be glad to place my rooms at your disposal, ma'am, if you would do me the honor of accepting them".

The man at her elbow looked to be around twenty seven or thirty years of age. His manner proclaimed the gentleman. He had a decided air of fashion, and his countenance, without being handsome, was sufficiently pleasing. Elizabeth sketched a courtesy. "You are very good, sir, but you are not to be giving up your rooms to two strangers".