ore than once, that she
expected Cecilia to bring her husband a dowry of at least a million of
francs. Baron Goldbirn thought this too much, but the Countess was
willing to consent, because she feared that the Princess would make
trouble at the last minute if she did not. Cecilia had of course never
discussed the matter with the Princess, but she was altogether of the
latter's opinion, and told her mother so. The obstacle lay in Guido's
refusal to accept a penny of his future wife's fortune, and on this
point the whole obstinacy of his father's race was roused. The Countess
could manifestly not threaten to break off the engagement because Guido
would not accept the dowry, but on the other hand she greatly feared
Guido's aunt. So there was ample matter for discussion whenever the
subject was broached.

It was a hot evening, and all the curtains were drawn back before the
open windows, only the blinds being closed. Cecilia and Lamberti
gravitated, as it were, to the farther end of the room. A piano stood
near the window there.

"Do you play?" Lamberti asked, looking at the instrument.

He thought that she did. All young girls are supposed to have talent for
music.

"No," Cecilia answered. "I have no accomplishments. Do you play the
piano?"

"Only by ear. I do not know a note of music."

"Play me something. Will you? But I suppose the piano is out of tune,
for nobody ever uses it since we stopped dancing."

Lamberti touched the keys, standing, and struck a few soft chords.

"No," he said. "It is not badly out of tune. But if I play, it will be
the end of our acquaintance."

"Perhaps it may be the beginning," Cecilia answered, and their eyes met
for a moment.

"If it amuses you, I will try," said Lamberti, looking away, and sitting
down before the keys. "You must be easily pleased if you can listen to
me," he added, laughing, as he struck a few chords again.

Cecilia sat down in a low chair between him and the window, at the left
of the key-board. Her mother glanced at Lamberti with a little surprise,
and then went on talking with Guido.

Lamberti began to play a favourite waltz, not loud, but with a good deal
of spirit and a perfect sense of time. Cecilia had often danced to the
tune in the spring, and liked it. He broke off suddenly, and made slow
chords again.

"Have you forgotten the rest?" Cecilia asked.

"No. I was thinking of something else. Did you ever hear this?"

He played an old Sicilian melo