"And if I then, on my side, positively refuse to do anything without having previously spoken to that person--to him or to her--what then?"

"In my opinion, you will be allowing a state of things to continue which will not ultimately reflect credit upon you or yours. Moreover, you will oblige me to take some still more active measures."

"What measures?"

"I do not know. I will think about it. And now I will wish you good morning."

He got upon his feet, and stood before Savelli.

"Good morning," said the latter, very stiffly. "Allow me to accompany you to the hall."

"Thanks," said Arden, as he began to move towards the door in his ungainly, dislocated fashion, while Savelli walked slowly beside him, towering above him by a third of his own height.

Arden shivered as he slipped on his fur coat in the hall, for it had been very cold in the drawing-room though he had scarcely noticed the fact in his preoccupied state of mind. While driving homeward, he looked at the little picture as it stood opposite to him on the seat of the carriage. It was one of those exquisite views of the Campagna, looking across the Tiber, which Sartorio does so wonderfully in pastel.

"She will be glad to have it," said Arden to himself, "and she will understand why I went out alone."

He was tolerably well satisfied with the morning's work. It had seemed to him that there was nothing else to be done under the circ.u.mstances, and he certainly did not choose the least wise course, in going directly to Savelli. He did not regret a word of what he had said, nor did he feel that he had said too little. As he antic.i.p.ated, Laura suspected nothing, and was delighted with the picture. She scolded him a little for having insisted upon going out on such a morning, especially for her sake, but as the clouds just then were breaking and the sunshine was streaming into the room, she felt as though it could not have been a great risk after all. Before they had finished luncheon, a note was brought in. Laura laughed oddly as she read it.

"It is an invitation to dinner from Adele," she said. "It is for the day after to-morrow, shall we accept?"

Arden's face grew thoughtful. He could not be sure whether the invitation had been sent before his interview with Savelli, or since. It was therefore not easy to decide upon the wisest course.

"Better to accept it, is it not?" asked Laura. "It is of no use to make an open breach."

"No. It is of no use. Accept, dear. It is more sensible."

Neither of them liked the thought of dining at the Palazzo Savelli just then, and Laura, at least, knew that she would find it hard to behave as though nothing had happened. Both would have been very much surprised, could they have known why they were asked, and that the idea had originated with Pietro Ghisleri.

On the previous evening, Gerano had taken pains to see his daughter alone at her own house, on pretence of talking to her about business.

With considerable skill he had led the conversation up to the required point, and had laid a trap for her.

"Do you see much of the Ardens just now?" he asked.

"No. We do not meet often," answered Adele, with a little movement of the shoulders.

"I wish you did. I wish you saw them every day," observed the Prince, more gravely.

"Do you, papa? Why?"

"You might find out something that I wish very much to know. It would not be hard at all. We are rather anxious about it."

"What is the matter?" asked Adele, with sudden interest.

"That is it. There is a disagreeable story afloat. More than one, in fact. It has reached my ears on good authority that Arden drinks far too much. You know what a brave girl Laura is. She hides it as well as she can, but she is terribly unhappy. Have you any idea whether there is any truth in all this?"

Adele hesitated a moment, and looked earnestly into her teacup, as though seeking advice. The moment was important. Her father had brought her own story back to her for confirmation, as it were. It might be dangerous to take the other side now. Suddenly she looked up with a well-feigned little smile of embarra.s.sment.

"I would rather not say what I think, papa," she said, with the evident intention of not denying the tale.

"But, my dear," protested her father, "you must see how anxious we are on Laura's account. Really, my child, have a little confidence in me--tell me what you know."

"If you insist--well, I suppose I must. I am afraid there is no doubt about it. Laura's husband is very intemperate."

"Ah me! I feared so, from what I had heard," said the Prince, looking down, and shaking his head very sadly.

"You see, the people first began to talk about it last year, when he was in such a disgraceful condition in your house, and Pietro Ghisleri had to take him home."

"Yes, yes!" Gerano still shook his head sorrowfully. "I ought to have known, but they told me it was a fainting fit. And the worst of it is, my dear Adele, that there are other stories, and worse ones, too, about Laura. I hear that she is seriously in love with Francesco. Poor thing!

it is no wonder--she is so unhappy at home, and Francesco is such a fine fellow, and always so kind to her everywhere."

"No, it is no wonder," a.s.sented Adele, who felt that she was launched, and must go to the end, though she had no time to consider the consequences.

"I suppose there is really some evidence about Arden's habits," resumed the Prince. "Of course he will deny it all, and I would like to have something to fall back upon--to convince myself more thoroughly, you understand."

Adele paused a moment.

"Arden has a Scotch servant," she said presently. "It appears that he is very intimate with our butler, who has often seen him going into the Tempietto with bottles of brandy hidden in an overcoat he carries on his arm."

"Dear me! How shocking!" exclaimed the Prince. "So old Giuseppe has actually seen that!"

"Often," replied Adele, with conviction. "But then, after all--so many men drink. If it were not for Laura--poor Laura!"

"Poor Laura,--yes, as I said, it is no wonder if she has fallen in love with Francesco--such a handsome fellow, too! She has shown good taste, at least." The Prince laughed gently. "At all events, you are not jealous, Adele; I can see that."

"I?" exclaimed Adele, with indignant scorn. "No, indeed!"

Gerano began to feel his pockets, as though searching for something he could not find. Then he rang the bell at his elbow.

"I have forgotten my cigarettes, my dear, I must have left them in my coat," he said.

The old butler answered his summons in person, for Gerano knew the usage of the house and had pressed the b.u.t.ton three times, unnoticed by Adele, which meant that Giuseppe was wanted.

"I have left my cigarettes in my coat, Giuseppe," said the Prince. Then as the man turned to go, he called him back. "Giuseppe!"

"Excellency!"

"I want you to do a little commission for me. I have a little surprise for Donna Laura, and I do not want her to know where it comes from. It must be placed on her table, do you see? Now Donna Adele tells me that you are very intimate with Lord Herbert's Scotch servant--"

"I, Excellency?" Giuseppe was very much astonished.

"Yes--the man with sandy grey hair, and a big nose, and a red face--a most excellent servant, who has been with Lord Herbert since he was a child. Donna Adele says you know him very well--"

"Her Excellency must be mistaken. It must have been some other servant who told her. I never saw the man."

"You said Giuseppe, did you not?" asked the Prince very blandly, and turning to Adele. She bit her lip in silence. "Never mind," he continued. "It is a misunderstanding, and I will manage the surprise in quite another way. My cigarettes, Giuseppe."

The man went out, and Adele and the Prince sat without exchanging a word, until he returned with the case, Gerano all the time looking very gentle. When the servant was gone a second time, the Prince's expression changed suddenly, and he spoke in a stern voice.