ssador; but you
know I am a good friend, and I really want to do something to restore
Giovanni to your graces."

"That will be difficult," answered Donna Tullia, although she knew very
well that she would receive Giovanni kindly enough when she had once had
an opportunity of speaking her mind to him.

"Do not be hard-hearted," urged the Prince. "I am sure he is very
penitent."

"Then let him say so."

"That is exactly what I ask."

"Is it? Oh, very well. If he chooses to call I will receive him, since
you desire it. Where shall I put you down?"

"Anywhere, thank you. Here, if you wish--at the corner. Good-bye. Do not
be too hard on the boy."

"We shall see," answered Donna Tullia, unwilling to show too much
indulgence. The old Prince bowed, and walked away into the gloom of the
dusky streets.

"That is over," he muttered to himself. "I wonder how the Astrardente
takes it." He would have liked to see her; but he recognized that, as he
so very rarely called upon her, it would seem strange to choose such a
time for his visit. It would not do--it would be hardly decent, seeing
that he believed her to be the cause of the catastrophe. His steps,
however, led him almost unconsciously in the direction of the Astrardente
palace; he found himself in front of the arched entrance almost before
he knew where he was. The temptation to see Corona was more than he could
resist. He asked the porter if the Duchessa was at home, and on being
answered in the affirmative, he boldly entered and ascended the marble
staircase--boldly, but with an odd sensation, like that of a schoolboy
who is getting himself into trouble.

Corona had just come home, and was sitting by the fire in her great
drawing-room, alone, with a book in her hand, which she was not reading.
She rarely remained in the reception-rooms; but to-day she had rather
capriciously taken a fancy to the broad solitude of the place, and had
accordingly installed herself there. She was very much surprised when the
doors were suddenly opened wide and the servant announced Prince
Saracinesca. For a moment she thought it must be Giovanni, for his father
rarely entered her house, and when the old man's stalwart figure advanced
towards her, she dropped her book in astonishment, and rose from her
deep chair to meet him. She was very pale, and there were dark rings
under her eyes that spoke of pain and want of sleep. She was so utterly
different from Donna Tullia, whom he had just