young
widow she could not do. It was not so bad, after all, especially if she
could celebrate the first day of her engagement by destroying the
reputation of Giovanni Saracinesca, root and branch, and dealing a blow
at Corona's happiness from which it would not recover.

As for Del Ferice, he regarded his triumph as complete. He cared little
what became of Giovanni--whether he was able to refute the evidence
brought against him or not. There had been nothing in the matter which
was dishonest, and properly made out marriage-certificates are not easy
things to annul. Giovanni might swim or sink--it was nothing to Ugo del
Ferice, now that he had gained the great object of his life, and was at
liberty to publish his engagement to Donna Tullia Mayer. He lost no time
in telling his friends the good news, and before the evening was over a
hundred people had congratulated him. Donna Tullia, too, appeared in more
than usually gay attire, and smilingly received the expressions of good
wishes which were showered upon her. She was not inclined to question the
sincerity of those who spoke, for in her present mood the stimulus of a
little popular noise was soothing to her nerves, which had been badly
strained by the excitement of the day. When she closed her eyes she had
evil visions of Temistocle retreating at full speed down the stairs with
his unearned bribe, or of Del Ferice's calm, pale face, as he had sat in
her house that afternoon grasping the precious documents in his hand
until she promised to pay the price he asked, which was herself. But
she smiled at each new congratulation readily enough, and said in her
heart that she would yet become a great power in society, and make her
house the centre of all attractions. And meanwhile she pondered on the
title she should buy for her husband: she came of high blood herself, and
she knew how such dignities as a "principe" or a "duca" were regarded
when bought. There was nothing for it but to find some snug little
marquisate--"marchese" sounded very well, though one could not be called
"eccellenza" by one's servants; still, as the daughter of a prince, she
might manage even that. "Marchese"--yes, that would do. What a pity there
were only four "canopy" marquises--"marchesi del baldacchino"--in Rome
with the rank of princes! That was exactly the combination of dignities
Donna Tullia required for her husband. But once a "marchese," if she was
very charitable, and did something in the w