ike me, and all of the Signor Chigi's wealth and glory does not
crush or humiliate you, because when two people really love each other
it makes them equal, and neither genius nor riches nor anything else in
all the world is worthy of being compared to the love of a true woman."

That shaft went home. The thought of being classed with this
single-hearted girl who had sacrificed everything to a great love so
humiliated and touched the heart of the venal courtesan that in spite of
all she had at stake, she could not prevail upon herself to do
Margherita this great wrong. So, finding that she knew not who the great
lady was to whom Raphael was betrothed, Imperia told her of Maria
Dovizio's expected visit, as of that of an old friend who had been
interested in her as a child at Cetinale, and bade her if opportunity
offered repeat to Maria the story exactly as she had just told it, for
it would surely be to her advantage to do so.

When Imperia told me this I cried out, "But it will kill Maria, and you
forget that Raphael is there and will not permit her thus to speak."

"Nay, my friend," Imperia answered. "Raphael is not there, for Agostino,
on reflection, wisely decided not to risk the meeting, and gave him a
holiday this morning to work in his own house. Never fear that Chigi
will not leave Maria Dovizio alone with Margherita, or that her
revelations will have any such deadly effect. Agostino is an adept in
consolation, and Maria must long since have divined the truth."

My heart beat in a tumult of conflicting emotions. For an instant a
wild, unreasoning hope overpowered all the rest. "Imperia," I
exclaimed, "you shall not lose Agostino. I will surrender my chances
with Maria to no man but Raphael. If in truth he has ceased to love
her,--then, for all you think me mad in saying so, we may both, may all
be happy yet."

[Illustration: Villa Madama]

But such joyous ending to lovers' woes is found only in the fictions of
romancers. Certes I have often thought I could design a fairer web than
that the fates weave for us.

Even as I spoke Imperia caught my arm and I drew rein, for we were
nearing the gateway of Chigi's villa. A carriage was leaving the
grounds, and as it passed us we saw Maria Dovizio lying in a swoon in
her uncle's arms. Chigi was not with them, for she had left his house
apparently indifferent to all that she had seen or heard within it, and
had succumbed only when beyond his view.

"Poor child," sa