d ever die, that
the day would ever come when society should know his place no more; and
with one consent everybody sent their carriages to the funeral, and went
themselves a day or two later to the great requiem Mass in the parish
church. There was nothing to be seen but the great black catafalque, with
Corona's household of servants in deep mourning liveries kneeling behind
it. Relations she had none, and the dead man was the last of his race--
she was utterly alone.

"She need not have made it so terribly impressive," said Madame Mayer
to Valdarno when the Mass was over. Madame Mayer paused beside the
holy-water basin, and dipping one gloved finger, she presented it to
Valdarno with an engaging smile. Both crossed themselves.

"She need not have got it up so terribly impressively, after all," she
repeated.

"I daresay she will miss him at first," returned Valdarno, who was a
kind-hearted fellow enough, and was very far from realising how much he
had contributed to the sudden death of the old dandy. "She is a strange
woman. I believe she had grown fond of him."

"Oh, I know all that," said Donna Tullia, as they left the church.

"Yes," answered her companion, with a significant smile, "I presume you
do." Donna Tullia laughed harshly as she got into her carriage.

"You are detestable, Valdarno--you always misunderstand me. Are you going
to the ball tonight?"

"Of course. May I have the pleasure of the cotillon?"

"If you are very good--if you will go and ask the news of Del Ferice."

"I sent this morning. He is quite out of danger, they believe."

"Is he? Oh, I am very glad--I felt so very badly, you know. Ah, Don
Giovanni, are you recovered?" she asked coldly, as Saracinesca approached
the other side of the carriage. Valdarno retired to a distance, and
pretended to be buttoning his greatcoat; he wanted to see what would
happen.

"Thank you, yes; I was not much hurt. This is the first time I have been
out, and I am glad to find an opportunity of speaking to you. Let me say
again how profoundly I regret my forgetfulness at the ball the other
night--"

Donna Tullia was a clever woman, and though she had been very angry at
the time, she was in love with Giovanni. She therefore looked at him
suddenly with a gentle smile, and just for one moment her fingers touched
his hand as it rested upon the side of the carriage.

"Do you think it was kind?" she asked, in a low voice.

"It was abominable. I shall never