eatrice had it, and having got the worst of the
first contest she conceived that further resistance would be wholly
useless, and accepted the inevitable conclusion that she must marry San
Miniato whether she liked him or not. But this state of mind did not by
any means imply that she would marry him with a good grace, or ever
again return in her behaviour towards him to the point she had reached
on the previous evening. That, thought Beatrice, would be too much to
expect, and was certainly more than she intended to give. She would be
quite willing to show that she had been deceived into consenting, and
was only keeping her word as a matter of principle. San Miniato might
think what he pleased. She knew that whatever she did, he would never
think of breaking off the engagement, since what he wanted was not
herself but her fortune. She shut her parasol with a rather vicious snap
as she went into the cool hall out of the sun, and the hard look in her
face was more accentuated than before, as she slowly ascended the steps.

The conversation between her mother and San Miniato during her short
absence had been characteristic. They understood each other perfectly
but neither would have betrayed to the other, by the merest hint, the
certainty that the marriage was by no means agreeable to poor Beatrice
herself.

"Dearest Marchesa," said San Miniato, touching her hand with his lips,
and then seating himself beside her, "tell me that you are not too much
exhausted after your exertions last night? Have you slept well? Have you
any appetite?"

"What a good doctor you would make, dear friend!" exclaimed the Marchesa
with a little smile.

And so they exchanged the amenities usual at their first meeting in the
day, as though they had not been buying and selling an innocent soul,
and did not appreciate the fact in its startling reality. Several more
phrases of the same kind were spoken.

"And how is Donna Beatrice?" inquired San Miniato at last.

"Why not call her Beatrice?" asked the Marchesa carelessly. "She is very
well. You just saw her."

"I fancy it would seem a little premature, a little familiar to call her
so," answered the Count, who remembered his recent discomfiture. "For
the present, I believe she would prefer a little more ceremony. I do not
know whether I am right. Pray give me your advice, Marchesa carissima."

"Of course you are right--you always are. You were right about the moon
yesterday--though I did not n