Dora did not like the change; she felt lonely and lost where
Ronald was so popular and so much at home.
Among those who eagerly sought Ronald's society was the pretty
coquette, the Countess Rosali, an English lady who had married
the Count Rosali, a Florentine noble of great wealth.
No one in Florence was half so popular as the fair countess.
Among the dark, glowing beauties of sunny Italy she was like a
bright sunbeam. Her fair, piquant face was charming from its
delicate bright coloring and gay smiles; her hair, of the rare
color painted by the old masters, yet so seldom seen, was of pure
golden hue, looking always as though the sun shone upon it.
Countess Rosali, there was no denying the fact, certainly did
enjoy a little flirtation. Her grave, serious husband knew it,
and looked on quite calmly. To his grave mind the pretty
countess resembled a butterfly far more than a rational being.
He knew that, though she might laugh and talk to others, though
she might seek admiration and enjoy delicate flattery, yet in her
heart she was true as steel. She loved bright colors, and
everything else that was gay and brilliant.
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