ity that in Venice, five
years ago, on a certain evening--do you remember?"

"How much like you that is!" interrupted she, laughing her deep, clear
laugh. "You came to see me this morning to talk to me of a marriage,
unhoped for with your reputation of gamester, of supper-giver, of
'mauvais sujet'; of a marriage which fulfils conditions most improbable,
so perfect are they--beauty, youth, intelligence, fortune, and even, if
I have read my little friend aright, the beginning of an interest, of a
very deep interest. And, for a little, you would make a declaration to
me. Come, come!" and she extended to him for a kiss her beautiful hand,
on which gleamed large emeralds. "You are forgiven. But answer--yes or
no. Shall I make the proposal? If it is yes, I will go to the Palace
Savorelli at two o'clock. I will speak to my friend Hafner. He will
speak to his daughter, and it will not depend upon me if you have not
their reply this evening or to-morrow morning. Is it yes? Is it no?"

"This evening? To-morrow?" exclaimed the Prince, shaking his head with
a most comical gesture. "I can not decide like that. It is an ambush! I
come to talk, to consult you."

"And on what?" asked Madame Steno, with a vivacity almost impatient.
"Can I tell you anything you do not already know? In twenty-four hours,
in forty-eight, in six months, what difference will there be, I pray
you? We must look at things as they are, however. To-morrow, the day
after, the following days, will you be less embarrassed?"

"No," said the Prince, "but--"

"There is no but," she resumed, allowing him to say no more than she had
allowed her intendant. The despotism natural to puissant personalities
scorned to be disguised in her, when there were practical decisions in
which she was to take part. "The only serious objection you made to me
when I spoke to you of this marriage six months ago was that Fanny
was not a Catholic. I know today that she has only to be asked to be
converted. So do not let us speak of that."

"No," said the Prince, "but--"

"As for Hafner," continued the Countess, "you will say he is my friend
and that I am partial, but that partiality even is an opinion. He is
precisely the father-in-law you need. Do not shake your head. He will
repair all that needs repairing in your fortune. You have been robbed,
my poor Peppino. You told me so yourself.... Become the Baron's
son-in-law, and you will have news of your robbers. I know.... There
is the