ers. A moment later, though, he put
a question. "What is her first name?--I have forgotten."

"Nina."

"Nina! Really a charming name, that! One that can be said without
breaking consonants against the teeth. There was a girl once, very
pretty, but she was called--I can never pronounce it--E-d-i-t-h--those
are the letters. But Ni-na! It has a delicious sound." He let it slip
over his tongue. Then he put his head on one side and asked quizzically,
"How much has she?"

Sansevero looked up quickly; he hesitated a moment, then answered
stiffly: "She has a great fortune, but she is also my niece."

Giovanni raised his eyebrows, and then burst into shouts of laughter.

"What has come over you? It was you who suggested the match! You know as
well as I that my debts don't disturb me in the least. It is quite easy
always to--borrow, if one must pay."

CHAPTER VI

LOVE, AND A GARDEN

Don Giovanni arrived on Tuesday, and Saturday found him out on the
terrace leaning over the balustrade beside Nina. His expression was
unusually animated, for he was making the most of his first chance to
talk to her without the presence of a third person. Not that they were
alone--the Princess Sansevero was too much of an Italian to leave a
young girl for a moment unchaperoned. But she was walking about with the
head gardener, discussing the possibilities of saving a grove of cypress
trees that showed signs of dying; and though she kept the young people
well in sight, she could not overhear their conversation. Giovanni's big
dog, St. Anthony, was lying outstretched in the sunshine.

In the full light, Nina had ample opportunity for observing that her
companion was quite as good-looking in detail as in general effect; and
the rhythmic inflection of his voice--he spoke in French--she thought
truly attuned to his surroundings. He was one of those who, like Italy
itself, give to strangers only the suggestion of their meaning, and he
interested Nina chiefly as a new unsolved problem.

Gradually the habitual sleepy expression had returned to his eyes, and
his voice grew dreamy. "We of Italy," he was saying, "live, endure, die,
if need be--always for the same reason--woman and love! Your men in
America"--his teeth glittered as he smiled--"tell me, Mademoiselle, do
you believe they know what it is to love? Do they hide it, perhaps, from
us Europeans?"

"I should think," answered Nina sagely, "that love means more to our men
than to you.