oney. It is
all so mysterious and complicated! Give me one of your cigarettes, I am
quite exhausted with talking."

"I think you do yourself injustice, dearest Marchesa," said San Miniato,
offering her his open case. "You have, I think, a remarkably good
understanding for business. I really envy you."

The Marchesa smiled languidly, and slowly inhaled the smoke from the
cigarette as he held the match for her.

"I have no doubt you learned a great deal from the Marchese," continued
San Miniato. "I must say that he displayed a keenness for his
daughter's interests such as merits the sincerest admiration. Take the
case, which happily has not arisen, dearest friend. Suppose that
Beatrice should discover that she had married a mere fortune-hunter. The
man would be entirely in your power and hers. It is admirably arranged."

"Admirably," assented the Marchesa without a smile. "It would be
precisely as you say. Beyond a few hundred thousand francs which he
would control as the dowry, he could touch nothing. He would be wholly
dependent on his wife and his mother-in-law. You see my dear husband
wished to guard against even the most improbable cases. How thankful I
am that heaven has sent Beatrice such a man as you!"

"Always good! Always kind!" San Miniato bent his head a little lower
than was necessary as he looked at his watch. He had something in his
eyes which he preferred to hide.

Just then Beatrice's step was heard on the tiled floor of the
sitting-room, and neither the Marchesa nor San Miniato thought it worth
while to continue the conversation with the danger of being overheard.

So the afternoon wore on, bright and cloudless, and when the air grew
cool Beatrice and her mother drove out together along the Massa road,
and far up the hill towards Sant' Agata. They talked little, for it is
not easy to talk in the rattling little carriages which run so fast
behind the young Turkish horses, and the roads are not always good, even
in summer. But San Miniato was left to his own devices and went and
bathed, walking out into the water as far as he could and then standing
still to enjoy the coolness. Ruggiero saw him from the breakwater and
watched him with evident interest. The Count, as has been said before,
could not swim a stroke, and was probably too old to learn. But he liked
the sea and bathing none the less, as Ruggiero knew. He stayed outside
the bathing-house fully half an hour, and then disappeared.

"It was