at delicacy in absenting
himself; he would thus allow the first months of Corona's mourning to
pass before formally presenting himself to society as her suitor.
Considering the peculiar circumstances of the case, there would be
nothing improper, from a social point of view, in his marrying Corona at
the expiration of a year after her husband's death. Of course he would
marry her; there was no doubt of that--he had been in love with her so
long, and now she was both free and rich. No one suspected that Giovanni,
instead of being in Scandinavia, was quietly established at Saracinesca,
a day's journey from Rome, busying himself with the management of the
estate, and momentarily satisfied in feeling himself so near the woman he
loved.

Donna Tullia could hardly wait until the day when Del Ferice was coming
to dinner: she was several times on the point of writing a note to ask
him to come at once. But she wisely refrained, guessing that the more she
pressed him the more difficulties he would make. At last he came, looking
pale and worn--interesting, as Donna Tullia would have expressed it. The
old Countess talked a great deal during dinner; but as she was too deaf
to hear more than a quarter of what was said by the others, the
conversation was not interesting. When the meal was over, she established
herself in a comfortable chair in the little sitting-room, and took a
book. After a few minutes, Donna Tullia suggested to Del Ferice that they
should go into the drawing-room. She had received some new waltz-music
from Vienna which she wanted to look over, and Ugo might help her. She
was not a musician, but was fond of a cheerful noise, and played upon the
piano with the average skill of a well-educated young woman of the
world. Of course the doors were left open between the drawing-room and
the boudoir, where the Countess dozed over her book and presently fell
asleep.

Donna Tullia sat at the grand piano, and made Del Ferice sit beside her.
She struck a few chords, and played a fragment of dance-music.

"Of course you have heard that Don Giovanni is gone?" she asked,
carelessly. "I suppose he is gone to Saracinesca; they say there is a
very good road between that and Astrardente."

"I should think he would have more decency than to pursue the Duchessa in
the first month of her mourning," answered Del Ferice, resting one arm
upon the piano, and supporting his pale face with his hand as he watched
Donna Tullia's fingers move