eep city towards the hills to eastward.

"Then it was true that she cared for another man," he said, in a low
voice.

"Yes. It was quite true."

"She wrote me in that letter that he did not know it."

"That was true also."

"And that he was not in the least in love with her."

"She thought so."

"But she was mistaken, you mean to say. He loved her, but did not show
it."

"Precisely. He loved her, but he was careful not to show it because he
understood that her mother and the Princess wished to marry her to you,
and because he happened to know that you were in earnest."

"That was decent of him, at all events," Guido said wearily. "Some men
would have behaved differently."

"I daresay," Lamberti answered.

"Is he a man I know?"

"Yes. You know him very well."

"And now she has asked you to tell me his name. I suppose that is why
you begin this conversation. You are trying to break it gently to me."
He smiled contemptuously.

"Yes!"

The word was spoken as if it cost an effort. Lamberti held his stout
stick with both hands over his crossed knee and leaned back, so that it
bent a little with the strain.

"My dear fellow," said Guido, with a little impatience, "it seems to me
that you need not take so much trouble to spare my feelings! If you do
not tell me who the man is, some one else will."

"No one else can," Lamberti answered, with emphasis.

"Why not? I would rather speak of her with you, if I must speak of her
at all, of course. But some obliging person is sure to tell me, or write
to me about it, as soon as the engagement is announced. 'My dear d'Este,
do you remember that girl you were engaged to last spring?' And so on.
Remember her!"

"There is no engagement," Lamberti said. "No one will write to you about
it, and no one knows who the man is, except the Contessina and the man
himself."

"And you," corrected Guido. "You may as well keep the secret, so far as
I am concerned. I have no curiosity about it. There will be time enough
to tell me when the engagement is announced."

"I do not think that there can be any engagement until you know."

"Oh, this is absurd! The Contessina was frank. She did not love me, she
told me so, and we agreed that our engagement should end. What possible
claim have I to know whom she wishes to marry now?"

"You have the strongest claim that any man can have, though not on her.
The man is your friend."

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Guido, becoming impatient. "A