that
dog the heels of all great enterprises. There is the penetralia, the
esoteric belief, in all great systems of national belief."

The count spoke with emphasis, yet in grave and measured accents; but
his lustrous eyes, and the wild confusion of those black locks, that
waved, as it were, sympathetic to his humor, showed that his mind was
engrossed with thoughts of overwhelming interest.

The cavaliere, after his last indignant outburst, had subsided into
the depths of the arm-chair in which Marescotti had placed him; it was
so large as almost to swallow up the whole of his stout little person.
With his hands joined, his dimpled fingers interlaced and pointing
upward, he patiently awaited what the count might say. He felt
painfully conscious that he had failed in his errand. This irritated
him exceedingly. He had not entered that room--No. 4, at the Universo
Hotel--in order to listen to the elaboration of Count Marescotti's
mission, but in order to set certain marriage-bells ringing. These
marriage-bells were, it seemed, to be forever mute. Still, having
demanded an explanation of what he conceived to be the count's most
incomprehensible conduct, he was bound, he felt, in common courtesy,
to listen to all he had to say.

Now Trenta never in his life was wanting in the very flower of
courtesy; he would much sooner have shot himself than be guilty of an
ill-bred word. So, under protest, therefore--a protest more distinctly
written in the general puckering up of his round, plump face, and a
certain sulky swell about his usually smiling mouth--it was clear he
meant to listen, cost him what it might. Besides, when he had heard
what the count had to say, it was clearly his duty to reason with him.
Who could tell that he might not yield to such a process? He avowed
that he was deeply enamored of Enrica--a man in love is already half
vanquished. Why should Marescotti throw away his chance of happiness
for a phantasy--a mere dream? There was no real obstacle. He
was versatile and visionary, but the very soul of honor. How, if
he--Trenta--could bring Marescotti to see how much it would be to
Enrica's advantage that he should transplant her from a dreary home,
to become a wife beside him?

Decidedly it was still possible that he, Cesare Trenta, who had
arranged satisfactorily so many most difficult royal complications,
might yet bring Marescotti to reason. Who could tell that he might not
yet be spared the humiliation of re