o her
carriage, which stood in waiting at the door--the very carriage and
pair of chestnut ponies which I myself had given her as a birthday
present. Ferrari offered to assist her in mounting the step of the
vehicle; she put his arm aside with a light jesting word and accepted
mine instead. I helped her in, and arranged her embroidered wraps about
her feet, and she nodded gayly to us both as we stood bareheaded in the
afternoon sunlight watching her departure. The horses started at a
brisk canter, and in a couple of minutes the dainty equipage was out of
sight. When nothing more of it could be seen than the cloud of dust
stirred up by its rolling wheels, I turned to look at my companion. His
face was stern, and his brows were drawn together in a frown. Stung
already! I thought. Already the little asp of jealousy commenced its
bitter work! The trifling favor HIS light-o'-love and MY wife had
extended to me in choosing MY arm instead of HIS as a momentary support
had evidently been sufficient to pique his pride. God! what blind bats
men are! With all their high capabilities and immortal destinies, with
all the world before them to conquer, they can sink unnerved and beaten
down to impotent weakness before the slighting word or insolent gesture
of a frivolous feminine creature, whose best devotions are paid to the
mirror that reflects her in the most becoming light! How easy would be
my vengeance, I mused, as I watched Ferrari. I touched him on the
shoulder; he started from his uncomfortable reverie and forced a smile.
I held out a cigar-case.

"What are you dreaming of?" I asked him, laughingly. "Hebe as she
waited on the gods, or Venus as she rose in bare beauty from the waves?
Either, neither, or both? I assure you a comfortable smoke is as
pleasant in its way as the smile of a woman."

He took a cigar and lighted it, but made no answer.

"You are dull, my friend," I continued, gayly, hooking my arm through
his and pacing him up and down on the turf in front of his studio.
"Wit, they say, should be sharpened by the glance of a bright eye; how
comes it that the edge of your converse seems blunted? Perhaps your
feelings are too deep for words? If so, I do not wonder at it, for the
lady is extremely lovely."

He glanced quickly at me.

"Did I not say so?" he exclaimed. "Of all creatures under heaven she is
surely the most perfect! Even you, conte, with your cynical ideas about
women, even you were quite subdued and i