t uproarious. Antonio Biscardi, the quiet and
unobtrusive painter, together with his fellow-student, Crispiano Dulci,
usually the shyest of young men, suddenly grew excited, and uttered
blatant nothings concerning their art. Captain Freccia argued the
niceties of sword-play with the Marquis D'Avencourt, both speakers
illustrating their various points by thrusting their dessert-knives
skillfully into the pulpy bodies of the peaches they had on their
plates. Luziano Salustri lay back at ease in his chair, his classic
head reclining on the velvet cushions, and recited in low and measured
tones one of his own poems, caring little or nothing whether his
neighbors attended to him or not. The glib tongue of the Marchese
Gualdro ran on smoothly and incessantly, though he frequently lost the
thread of his anecdotes and became involved in a maze of contradictory
assertions. The rather large nose of the Chevalier Mancini reddened
visibly as he laughed joyously to himself at nothing in particular--in
short, the table had become a glittering whirlpool of excitement and
feverish folly, which at a mere touch, or word out of season, might
rise to a raging storm of frothy dissension. The Duke di Marina and
myself alone of all the company were composed as usual--he had resisted
the champagne, and as for me, I had let all the splendid wines go past
me, and had not taken more than two glasses of a mild Chianti.

I glanced keenly round the riotous board--I noted the flushed faces and
rapid gesticulations of my guests, and listened to the Babel of
conflicting tongues. I drew a long breath as I looked--I calculated
that in two or three minutes at the very least I might throw down the
trump card I had held so patiently in my hand all the evening.

I took a close observation of Ferrari. He had edged his chair a little
away from mine, and was talking confidentially to his neighbor, Captain
de Hamal--his utterance was low and thick, but yet I distinctly heard
him enumerating in somewhat coarse language the exterior charms of a
woman--what woman I did not stop to consider--the burning idea struck
me that he was describing the physical perfections of my wife to this
De Hamal, a mere spadaccino, for whom there was nothing sacred in
heaven or earth. My blood rapidly heated itself to boiling point--to
this day I remember how it throbbed in my temples, leaving my hands and
feet icy cold. I rose in my seat, and tapped on the table to call for
silence a