forgive myself," answered Giovanni.

"I will forgive you," answered Donna Tullia, softly. She really loved
him. It was the best thing in her nature, but it was more than balanced
by the jealousy she had conceived for the Duchessa d'Astrardente.

"Was it on that account that you quarrelled with poor Del Ferice?" she
asked, after a moment's pause. "I have feared it--"

"Certainly not," answered Giovanni, quickly. "Pray set your mind at rest.
Del Ferice or any other man would have been quite justified in calling me
out for it--but it was not for that. It was not on account of you."

It would have been hard to say whether Donna Tullia's face expressed more
clearly her surprise or her disappointment at the intelligence. Perhaps
she had both really believed herself the cause of the duel, and had
been flattered at the thought that men would fight for her.

"Oh, I am very glad--it is a great relief," she said, rather coldly. "Are
you going to the ball to-night?"

"No; I cannot dance. My right arm is bound up in a sling, as you see."

"I am sorry you are not coming. Good-bye, then."

"Good-bye; I am very grateful for your forgiveness." Giovanni bowed low,
and Donna Tullia's brilliant equipage dashed away.

Giovanni was well satisfied at having made his peace so easily, but he
nevertheless apprehended danger from Donna Tullia.

The next thing which interested Roman society was Astrardente's will,
but no one was much surprised when the terms of it were known. As there
were no relations, everything was left to his wife. The palace in Rome,
the town and castle in the Sabines, the broad lands in the low
hill-country towards Ceprano, and what surprised even the family lawyer,
a goodly sum in solid English securities,--a splendid fortune in all,
according to Roman ideas. Astrardente abhorred the name of money in his
conversation--it had been one of his affectations; but he had an
excellent understanding of business, and was exceedingly methodical in
the management of his affairs. The inheritance, the lawer thought, might
be estimated at three millions of scudi.

"Is all this wealth mine, then?" asked Corona, when the solicitor had
explained the situation.

"All, Signora Duchessa. You are enormously rich."

Enormously rich! And alone in the world. Corona asked herself if she was
the same woman, the same Corona del Carmine who five years before had
suffered in the old convent the humiliation of having no pocket-money,
whose