in it."

"So the Astrardente is gone," remarked the Prince.

"Yes; gone to live within twenty miles of Saracinesca," replied Giovanni,
with an angry intonation.

"Do not go there yet," said his father. "Leave her alone a while. Women
become frantic in solitude."

"Do you think I am an idiot?" exclaimed Giovanni. "Of course I shall stay
where I am till Carnival is over." He was not in a good humour.

"Why are you so petulant?" retorted the old man. "I merely gave you my
advice."

"Well, I am going to follow it. It is good. When Carnival is over I will
go away, and perhaps get to Saracinesca by a roundabout way, so that no
one will know where I am. Will you not come too?"

"I daresay," answered the Prince, who was always pleased when his son
expressed a desire for his company. "I wish we lived in the good old
times."

"Why?"

"We would make small scruple of besieging Astrardente and carrying off
the Duchessa for you, my boy," said the Prince, grimly.

Giovanni laughed. Perhaps the same idea had crossed his mind. He was not
quite sure whether it was respectful to Corona to think of carrying her
off in the way his father suggested; but there was a curious flavour of
possibility in the suggestion, coming as it did from a man whose
grandfather might have done such a thing, and whose great-grandfather was
said to have done it. So strong are the instincts of barbaric domination
in races where the traditions of violence exist in an unbroken chain,
that both father and son smiled at the idea as if it were quite natural,
although Giovanni had only the previous day promised that he would not
even attempt to see Corona d'Astrardente without her permission. He did
not tell his father of his promise, however, for his more delicate
instinct made him sure that though he had acted rightly, his father would
laugh at his scruples, and tell him that women liked to be wooed roughly.

Meanwhile Giovanni felt that Rome had become for him a vast solitude, and
the smile soon faded from his face at the thought that he must go out
into the world, and for Corona's sake act as though nothing had happened.

CHAPTER XX.

Poor Madame Mayer was in great anxiety of mind. She had not a great
amount of pride, but she made up for it by a plentiful endowment of
vanity, in which she suffered acutely. She was a good-natured woman
enough, and by nature she was not vindictive; but she could not help
being jealous, for she was in love. Sh