Presently Natalie pressed her
mother's arm, they were opposite the Villa Odelschalchi--there was the
name on the flat pillars by the gate.
This great plain building, which might have been called a palazzo rather
than a villa, seemed, on the side fronting the street, to be entirely
closed--all the casements of the windows being shut. But when they
crossed to the gate, and pulled the big iron handle that set a bell
ringing, a porter appeared--a big, indolent-looking man, who regarded
them calmly, to see which would speak first.
Natalie simply produced the card that had been sent to her.
"This is the Villa Odelschalchi, I perceive," she said.
"Oh, it is you, then, signorina?" the porter said, with great respect.
"Yes, there was one lady to come here at four o'clock--"
"But the signora is my mother," said Natalie, perhaps with a trifle of
impatience.
The man hesitated for a moment, but by this time Natalie, accompanied by
her mother, had passed through the cool gray archway into the spacious
tessellated court, from which rose on each hand a wide marble staircase.
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