ttle as Hafner, of whom no one knows whether he is a Jew or a
Gentile!... Did you not see poor Fanny look at him the while? And
did you not remark with what tact the Baron made the allusion to the
delicacy which had prevented his daughter from visiting the Palais
Castagna with us? And did that comedy enacted between the two men give
you no food for thought?"

"Is that why Peppino is here?" asked Julien. "Is there a plan on foot
for the marriage of the heiress of Papa Hafner's millions and the
grand-nephew of Pope Urban VII? That will furnish me with a fine subject
of conversation with some one of my acquaintance!".... And the mere
thought of Montfanon learning such news caused him to laugh heartily,
while he continued, "Do not look at me so indignantly, dear Contessina.
But I see nothing so sad in the story. Fanny to marry Peppino? Why not?
You yourself have told me that she is partly Catholic, and that her
father is only awaiting her marriage to have her baptized. She will be
happy then. Ardea will keep the magnificent palace we saw yesterday, and
the Baron will crown his career in giving to a man ruined on the Bourse,
in the form of a dowry, that which he has taken from others."

"Be silent," said the young girl, in a very grave voice, "you inspire
me with horror. That Ardea should have lost all scruples, and that he
should wish to sell his title of a Roman prince at as high a price as
possible, to no matter what bidder, is so much the more a matter of
indifference, for we Venetians do not allow ourselves to be imposed upon
by the Roman nobility. We all had Doges in our families when the fathers
of these people were bandits in the country, waiting for some poor monk
of their name to become Pope. That Baron Hafner sells his daughter as he
once sold her jewels is also a matter of indifference to me. But you
do not know her. You do not know what a creature, charming and
enthusiastic, simple and sincere, she is, and who will never, never
mistrust that, first of all, her father is a thief, and, then, that he
is selling her like a trinket in order to have grand-children who shall
be at the same time grandnephews of the Pope, and, finally, that Peppino
does not love her, that he wants her dowry, and that he will have for
her as little feeling as they have for her." She glanced at Madame
Maitland. "It is worse than I can tell you," she said, enigmatically, as
if vexed by her own words, and almost frightened by them.

"Yes,"