be interpreted too seriously. Donna Tullia smiled
too; she was inclined to be very kind to him.

"You are very quick to jump at conclusions," she said, playing with her
red fan and looking down.

"It is always easy to reach that pleasant conclusion--that you and I are
in sympathy," he answered, with a tender glance, "even in regard to
hating the same person. The bond would be close indeed, if it depended on
the opposite of hate. And yet I sometimes think it does. Are you not the
best friend I have in the world?"

"I do not know,--I am a good friend to you," she answered.

"Indeed you are; but do you not think it would be possible to cement our
friendship even more closely yet?"

Donna Tullia looked up sharply; she had no idea of allowing him to
propose to marry her. His face, however, was grave--unlike his usual
expression when he meant to be tender, and which she knew very well.

"I do not know," she said, with a light laugh. "How do you mean?"

"If I could do you some great service--if I could by any means satisfy
what is now your chief desire in life--would not that help to cement our
friendship, as I said?"

"Perhaps," she answered, thoughtfully. "But then you do not know--you
cannot guess even--what I most wish at this moment."

"I think I could," said Del Ferice, fixing his eyes upon her. "I am sure
I could, but I will not. I should risk offending you."

"No; I will not be angry. You may guess if you please." Donna Tullia in
her turn looked, fixedly at her companion. They seemed trying to read
each other's thoughts.

"Very well," said Ugo at last, "I will tell you. You would like to see
the Astrardente dead and Giovanni Saracinesca profoundly humiliated."

Donna Tullia started. But indeed there was nothing strange in her
companion's knowledge of her feelings. Many people, being asked what she
felt, would very likely have said the same, for the world had seen her
discomfiture and had laughed at it.

"You are a very singular man," she said, uneasily.

"In other words," replied Del Ferice, calmly, "I am perfectly right in my
surmises. I see it in your face. Of course," he added, with a laugh, "it
is mere jest. But the thing is quite possible. If I fulfilled your desire
of just and poetic vengeance, what would you give me?"

Donna Tullia laughed in her turn, to conceal the extreme interest she
felt in what he said.

"Whatever you like," she said. But even while the laugh was on her lips
her eyes so