r; but when at last he had
seen her brougham, she had driven rapidly past him, thickly veiled, and
he did not think she had even noticed him. He would have written to her,
but he was still unable to hold a pen; and he reflected that, after all,
it would have been a hideous farce for him to offer condolences and
sympathy, however much he might desire to hide from himself his secret
satisfaction at her husband's death. Too proud to think of obtaining
information through such base channels as Del Ferice was willing to use,
he was wholly ignorant of Corona's intentions; and it was a brilliant
proof of Ugo's astuteness that he had rightly judged Giovanni's position
with regard to her, and justly estimated the value of the news conveyed
by his anonymous note.

Saracinesca read the scrap of writing, and tossed it angrily into the
fire. He hated underhand dealings, and scorned himself for the interest
the note excited in him, wondering who could find advantage in informing
him of the Duchessa's movements. But the note took effect, nevertheless,
although he was ashamed of it, and all night he pondered upon what it
told him. The next day, at three o'clock, he went out alone, and walked
rapidly towards the Palazzo Astrardente. He was unable to bear the
suspense any longer; the thought that Corona was going away, apparently
to shut herself up in the solitude of the ancient fortress, for any
unknown number of months, and that he might not see her until the autumn,
was intolerable. He knew that by the mere use of his name he could at
least make sure that she should know he was at her door, and he
determined to make the attempt. He waited a long time, pacing slowly the
broad flagstones beneath the arch of the palace, while the porter
himself went up with his card and message. The fellow had hesitated, but
Don Giovanni Saracinesca was not a man to be refused by a servant. At
last the porter returned, and, bowing to the ground, said that the
Signora Duchessa would receive him.

In five minutes he was waiting alone in the great drawing-room. It had
cost Corona a struggle to allow him to be admitted. She hesitated long,
for it seemed like a positive wrong to her husband's memory, but the
woman in her yielded at last; she was going away on the following
morning, and she could not refuse to see him for once. She hesitated
again as she laid her hand upon the latch of the door, knowing that he
was in the room beyond; then at last she entered