s, if
not with scrupulous accuracy.

"Cecilia is rich enough to marry whom she pleases," the Countess
answered. "Even without considering her inclinations, your social
position would make up for your want of fortune."

"My social position is not very exalted," Guido answered, smiling at her
frankness. "I am plain 'Signor d'Este,' without any title whatsoever, or
without the least prospect of one."

"But your royal blood----" protested the Countess.

"I am more proud of the fact that my mother was an honest woman,"
replied Guido, quietly.

"Yes--oh--of course!" The Countess was a little abashed. "But you know
what I mean," she added, by way of making matters clear. "And as for
your fortune--I would say, your allowance, and all that--it really does
not matter. It is natural that you should have made debts, too. All
young men do, I believe."

"No," said Guido. "I have not a debt in the world."

"Really?"

The single word sounded more like an exclamation of extreme surprise
than like an interrogation, and the Countess, who was incapable of
concealment, stared at Guido for a moment in undisguised astonishment.

"Why are you so much surprised?" he asked, with evident amusement. "My
allowance is fifty thousand francs a year. That is not wealth, but it is
quite enough for me."

"Yes. I should think so. That is--of course, it is not much--is it? I
never know anything about money, you know! Baron Goldbirn manages
everything for us."

"I suppose," Guido said, looking at her curiously, "that some one must
have told you that I had made debts."

"Yes--yes! Some one did tell me so."

"Whoever said it was quite mistaken. I can easily satisfy you on that
point, for I am a very orderly person. I used to play high when I was
twenty-one, but I got tired of it, and I do not care for cards any
longer."

"It is very strange, all the same!" The Countess was still wondering,
though she believed him. "How people lie!" she exclaimed.

"Oh, admirably, and most of the time," Guido answered, with a little
laugh.

There was a short pause. He also was wondering who could have maligned
him. No doubt it must have been some designing mother who had a son to
marry.

"Forgive me," he said at last. "I have told you exactly what my position
is. Have you, on your side, any reason to think that your daughter will
consent?"

"Oh, I am sure she will!" answered the Countess, promptly.

Guido repressed a movement, and for an instant the