e to the Duchessa; but the hit had touched her husband in a
sensitive spot. The old dandy had been handsome once, in a certain way,
and he did his best, by artificial means, to preserve some trace of his
good looks. The Duchessa smiled faintly.

"I would wager," said Astrardente, sourly, "that his excited manner just
now was due to one of two things--either his vanity or his money is in
danger. As for the way he yelled after Spicca, it looked as though there
were a duel in the air--fancy the old fellow fighting a duel! Too
ridiculous!"

"A duel!" repeated Corona in a low voice.

"I do not see anything so very ridiculous in it," said the diplomatist,
slowly twisting his glass of champagne in his fingers, and then sipping
it. "Besides," he added deliberately, glancing at the Duchessa from the
corner of his eyes, "he has a son."

Corona started very slightly.

"Why should there be a duel?" she asked.

"It was your husband who suggested the idea," returned the diplomatist.

"But you said there was nothing ridiculous in it," objected the Duchessa.

"But I did not say there was any truth in it, either," answered his
Excellency with a reassuring smile. "What made you think of duelling?" he
asked, turning to Astrardente.

"Spicca," said the latter. "Wherever Spicca is concerned there is a duel.
He is a terrible fellow, with his death's-head and dangling bones--one of
those extraordinary phenomena--bah! it makes one shiver to think of him!"
The old fellow made the sign of the horns with his forefinger and little
finger, hiding his thumb in the palm of his hand, as though to protect
himself against the evil eye--the sinister influence invoked by the
mention of Spicca. Old Astrardente was very superstitious. The ambassador
laughed, and even Corona smiled a little.

"Yes," said the diplomatist, "Spicca is a living _memento mori_; he
occasionally reminds men of death by killing them."

"How horrible!" exclaimed Corona.

"Ah, my dear lady, the world is full of horrible things."

"That is not a reason for making jests of them."

"It is better to make light of the inevitable," said Astrardente. "Are
you ready to go home, my dear?"

"Quite--I was only waiting for you," answered Corona, who longed to be at
home and alone.

"Let me know the result of old Saracinesca's warlike undertakings," said
Astrardente, with a cunning smile on his painted face. "Of course, as he
consulted you, he will send you word in the morning."