Do you think the count would go to law about
his daughter's reputation? Or do you suppose he would try to murder
me?"

"I would do both, in his place," I answered. "But perhaps you are
right, and he will yield when he sees that he is outwitted. Think
again, and suppose that the contessina herself objects to such a
step."

"That is a different matter. She shall do nothing save by her own free
will. You do not imagine I would try to take her away unless she were
willing?" He sat down again beside me, and affectionately laid one
hand on my shoulder.

"Women, Nino, are women," I remarked.

"Unless they are angels," he assented.

"Keep the angels for Paradise, and beware of taking them into
consideration in this working-day world. I have often told you, my
boy, that I am older than you."

"As if I doubted that!" he laughed.

"Very well. I know something about women. A hundred women will tell
you that they are ready to flee with you; but not more than one in the
hundred will really leave everything and follow you to the end of the
world when the moment comes for running away. They always make a fuss
at the last and say it is too dangerous, and you may be caught. That
is the way of them. You will be quite ready with a ladder of ropes,
like one of Boccaccio's men, and a roll of banknotes for the journey,
and smelling-salts, and a cushion for the puppy dog, and a separate
conveyance for the maid, just according to the directions she has
given you; then, at the very last, she will perhaps say that she is
afraid of hurting her father's feelings by leaving him without any
warning. Be careful, Nino!"

"As for that," he answered, sullenly enough, "if she will not, she
will not; and I would not attempt to persuade her against her
inclination. But unless you have very much exaggerated what you saw in
her face, she will be ready at five minutes' notice. It must be very
like hell up there in that castle, I should think."

"Messer Diavolo, who rules over the house, will not let his prey
escape him so easily as you think."

"Her father?" he asked.

"No; Benoni. There is no creature so relentless as an old man in
pursuit of a young woman."

"I am not afraid of Benoni."

"You need not be afraid of her father," said I, laughing. "He is lame,
and cannot run after you." I do not know why it is that we Romans
laugh at lame people; we are sorry for them, of course, as we are for
other cripples.

"There is something more than