a branch of equally gorgeous blossom.

"You are like a prince in a fairy tale, Cesare," she said, with a
little delighted laugh; "everything you do is superbly done! How
pleasant it is to be so rich--there is nothing better in all the world."

"Except love!" I returned, with a grim attempt to be sentimental.

Her large eyes softened like the pleading eyes of a tame fawn.

"Ay, yes!" and she smiled with expressive tenderness, "except love. But
when one has both love and wealth, what a paradise life can be!"

"So great a paradise," I assented, "that it is hardly worth while
trying to get into heaven at all! Will you make earth a heaven for me,
Nina mia, or will you only love me as much--or as little--as you loved
your late husband?"

She shrugged her shoulders and pouted like a spoilt child.

"Why are you so fond of talking about my late husband, Cesare?" she
asked, peevishly; "I am so tired of his name! Besides, one does not
always care to be reminded of dead people--and he died so horribly too!
I have often told you that I did not love him at all. I liked him a
little, and I was quite ill when that dreadful monk, who looked like a
ghost himself, came and told me he was dead. Fancy hearing such a piece
of news suddenly, while I was actually at luncheon with Gui--Signore
Ferrari! We were both shocked, of course, but I did not break my heart
over it. Now I really DO love YOU--"

I drew nearer to her on the couch where she sat, and put one arm round
her.

"You really DO?" I asked, in a half-incredulous tone; "you are quite
sure?"

She laughed and nestled her head on my shoulder.

"I am quite sure! How many times have you asked me that absurd
question? What can I say, what can I do--to make you believe me?"

"Nothing," I answered, and answered truly, for certainly nothing she
could say or do would make me believe her for a moment. "But HOW do you
love me--for myself or for my wealth?"

She raised her head with a proud, graceful gesture.

"For yourself, of course! Do you think mere wealth could ever win MY
affection? No, Cesare! I love you for your own sake--your own merits
have made you dear to me."

I smiled bitterly. She did not see the smile. I slowly caressed her
silky hair.

"For that sweet answer, carissima mia, you shall have your reward. You
called me a fairy prince just now--perhaps I merit that title more than
you know. You remember the jewels I sent you before we ever met?"

"Remember them!" s