t be like a fragrant hot-house, where
one is free to wander every day, sometimes gathering a gorgeous lily,
sometimes a simple violet--sometimes--" "A thorn?" suggested Salustri.

"Well, perhaps!" laughed the Marchese. "Yet one would run the risk of
that for the sake of a perfect rose."

Chevalier Mancini, who wore in his button-hole the decoration of the
Legion d'Honneur, looked up--he was a thin man with keen eyes and a
shrewd face which, though at a first glance appeared stern, could at
the least provocation break up into a thousand little wrinkles of
laughter.

"There is undoubtedly something entrainant about the idea," he
observed, in his methodical way. "I have always fancied that marriage
as we arrange it is a great mistake."

"And that is why you have never tried it?" queried Ferrari, looking
amused.

"Certissimamente!" and the chevalier's grim countenance began to work
with satirical humor. "I have resolved that I will never be bound over
by the law to kiss only one woman. As matters stand, I can kiss them
all if I like."

A shout of merriment and cries of "Oh! oh!" greeted this remark, which
Ferrari, however, did not seem inclined to take in good part.

"All?" he said, with a dubious air. "You mean all except the married
ones?"

The chevalier put on his spectacles, and surveyed him with a sort of
comic severity.

"When I said ALL, I meant all," he returned--"the married ones in
particular. They, poor things, need such attentions--and often invite
them--why not? Their husbands have most likely ceased to be amorous
after the first months of marriage."

I burst out laughing. "You are right, Mancini," I said; "and even if
the husbands are fools enough to continue their gallantries they
deserve to be duped--and they generally are! Come, amico.'" I added,
turning to Ferrari, "those are your own sentiments--you have often
declared them to me."

He smiled uncomfortably, and his brows contracted. I could easily
perceive that he was annoyed. To change the tone of the conversation I
gave a signal for the music to recommence, and instantly the melody of
a slow, voluptuous Hungarian waltz-measure floated through the room.
The dinner was now fairly on its way; the appetites of my guests were
stimulated and tempted by the choicest and most savory viands, prepared
with all the taste and intelligence a first rate chef can bestow on his
work, and good wine flowed freely.

Vincenzo obediently following my instru