ion, leaning my two hands on the
table before me.

"What our worthy Gualdro says," I went on, "is perfectly true. I have
been noted for my antipathy to the fair sex. I know it. But when one of
the loveliest among women comes out of her way to tempt me--when she
herself displays the matchless store of her countless fascinations for
my attraction--when she honors me by special favors and makes me
plainly aware that I am not too presumptuous in venturing to aspire to
her hand in marriage--what can I do but accept with a good grace the
fortune thrown to me by Providence? I should be the most ungrateful of
men were I to refuse so precious a gift from Heaven, and I confess I
feel no inclination to reject what I consider to be the certainty of
happiness. I therefore ask you all to fill your glasses, and do me the
favor to drink to the health and happiness of my future bride."

Gualdro sprung erect, his glass held high in the air; every man
followed his example, Ferrari rose to his feet with some unsteadiness,
while the hand that held his full champagne glass trembled.

The Duke di Marina, with a courteous gesture, addressed me: "You will,
of course, honor us by disclosing the name of the fair lady whom we are
prepared to toast with all befitting reverence?"

"I was about to ask the same question," said Ferrari, in hoarse
accents--his lips were dry, and he appeared to have some difficulty in
speaking. "Possibly we are not acquainted with her?"

"On the contrary," I returned, eying him steadily with a cool smile.
"You all know her name well! Illustrissimi Signori!" and my voice rang
out clearly--"to the health of my betrothed wife, the Contessa Romani!"

"Liar!" shouted Ferrari--and with all a madman's fury he dashed his
brimming glass of champagne full in my face! In a second the wildest
scene of confusion ensued. Every man left his place at table and
surrounded us. I stood erect and perfectly calm--wiping with my
handkerchief the little runlets of wine that dripped from my
clothing--the glass had fallen at my feet, striking the table as it
fell and splitting itself to atoms.

"Are you drunk or mad, Ferrari?" cried Captain de Hamal, seizing him by
the arm--"do you know what you have done?"

Ferrari glared about him like a tiger at bay--his face was flushed and
swollen like that of a man in apoplexy--the veins in his forehead stood
out like knotted cords--his breath came and went hard as though he had
been running. He t