ould have to scold--and to-day that would be a pity, for it is a day
of good omen for us all."

"Ah, yes," agreed Filomena. "Monsieur the Cure is to bless the house."

"Not only that, but his Highness here has come with great news to tell.
He is going to marry a beautiful young lady."

"Then is the blessing a double one. I am sure the young lady must indeed
be beautiful if she is worthy; perhaps even as beautiful as the
Princess, my mistress."

"Quite as beautiful, Filomena. But you are the first one to have the
news. You must not go and tell. Leave that to the Prince."

"Indeed, Monsieur the Cure need have no fear. I've my _dejeuner_ to
cook. And I shall make something extra in honour of the great occasion."
So, with a flash of white teeth and a bow no duchess could have
bettered, Filomena went off about her business, followed by that aged
patriarch, her father.

Three minutes after the pair had disappeared through the _porte de
service_, Vanno and the cure arrived at the great gate, which was a
famous landmark at Cap Martin, the Villa Mirasole having been built
years ago for a Russian grand duke. Since he had been killed by a bomb
in his own country, the house he loved had passed into other hands. Now
it belonged to an English earl who had lost a fortune at the Casino: and
it was owing to his losses that the villa was let this season to Prince
Della Robbia.

Much of the furniture, which was of great value, had been sold, and the
house was so denuded that it had practically to be redecorated and
refurnished, to suit Angelo's ideas of fitness for his wife; because he
wished to keep it on year after year. Only to-day was everything
finished to his satisfaction.

The villa, whose exterior copied the Petit Trianon, had a large entrance
hall of marble which opened to the roof, and was surrounded by a
gallery. This hall was coldly beautiful, with its few bronzes and gilded
seventeenth-century chairs, its tall vases of orange blossoms and tea
roses, its faded Persian rugs and mosaic tables. But it made an
extraordinarily impressive background or frame for a lovely woman, and
Marie Della Robbia was a lovely woman. Vanno had seen her many times now
in many different dresses since New Year's eve, when he had met her with
Angelo, at the Mentone railway station; but she had never struck him as
being a beauty, until to-day. As she came forward to greet her two
visitors, he said to himself for the first time that she was be