eat he might be last. Was a horse a Christian? You
could not count upon him. And then they began to talk of love and
Ruggiero's heart stood still, for that, at least, he could understand.

"Love!" laughed Beatrice, repeating the word. "It always makes one
laugh. Were you ever in love, mamma?"

The Marchesa turned her head slowly, and lifted her sleepy eyes to look
at her daughter, before she answered.

"No," she said lazily. "I was never in love. But you are far too young
to talk of such things."

"San Miniato says that love is for the young and friendship for the
old."

"Love," said San Miniato, "is a necessary evil, but it is also the
greatest source of happiness."

"What a fine phrase!" exclaimed Beatrice. "You must be a professor in
disguise."

"A professor of love?" asked the Count with a very well executed look of
tenderness which did not escape Ruggiero.

"Hush, for the love of heaven!" interposed the Marchesa. "This is too
dreadful!"

"We were not talking of the love of heaven," answered Beatrice
mischievously.

"I was thinking at least of a love that could make any place a heaven,"
said San Miniato, again helping his lack of originality with his eyes.

Ruggiero reflected that it would be but the affair of a second to unship
the heavy brass tiller and bring it down once on the top of his master's
skull. Once would be enough.

"Whose love?" asked Beatrice innocently.

San Miniato looked at her again, then turned away his eyes and sighed
audibly.

"Well?" asked Beatrice. "Will you answer. I do not understand that
language. Whose love would make any place--Timbuctoo, for instance--a
heaven for you?"

"Discretion is the only virtue a man ought to exhibit whenever he has a
chance," said San Miniato.

"Perhaps. But even that should be shown without ostentation." Beatrice
laughed. "And you are decidedly ostentatious at the present moment. It
would interest mamma and me very much to know the object of your
affections."

"Beatrice!" exclaimed the Marchesa with affected horror.

"Yes, mamma," answered the young girl. "Here I am. Do you want some more
lemonade?"

"She is quite insufferable," said the Marchesa to San Miniato, with a
languid smile. "But really, San Miniato carissimo, this conversation--a
young girl---"

Ruggiero wondered what she found so obnoxious in the words that had been
spoken. He also wondered how long it would take San Miniato to drown if
he were dropped overboard in the w