ast few
years."

"The plan certainly saves the parents a great deal of trouble," observed
the Marchesa, lazily shutting her eyes and fanning herself again.

"And it places the decision of the most vital question in life in the
hands of the two beings most concerned."

San Miniato spoke rather sententiously, for he knew how to impress his
companion and he meant to be impressive.

"No doubt," answered the Marchesa. "No doubt. But," she continued,
bringing up the time-honoured argument, "the two young people most
concerned are not always the people best able to judge of their own
welfare."

"Of course they are not," assented San Miniato, readily enough, and
abandoning the point which could be of no use to him. "Of course not.
But, dearest Marchesa, since you have judged for us--and there is no one
else to judge--do you not think that you might leave the rest in my
hands? The mere question to be asked, you know, in the hope of a final
answer--the mere technicality of love-making, with which you can only be
familiar from the woman's point of view, and not from the man's, as I
am. Not that I have had much experience---"

"You?" laughed the Marchesa, touching his hand with her fan. "You
without much experience! But you are historical, dearest friend! Who
does not know of your conquests?"

"I, at least, do not," answered San Miniato with well-affected modesty.
"But that is not the question. Let us get back to it. This is my plan.
The moon is full to-morrow and the weather is hot. We will all go in my
boat to Tragara and dine on the rocks. It will be beautiful. Then after
dinner we can walk about in the moonlight--slowly, not far from you, as
at the end of this terrace. And while you are looking on I, in a low
voice, will express my sincere feelings to Donna Beatrice, and ask the
most important of all questions. Does not that please you? Is it not
well combined?"

"But why must we take the trouble to go all the way to Capri? What sense
is there in that?"

"Dearest Marchesa, you do not understand! Consider the surroundings, the
moonlight, the water rippling against the rocks, the soft breeze--a
little music, too, such as a pair of mandolins and a guitar, which we
could send over--all these things are in my favour."

"Why?" asked the Marchesa, not understanding in the least how he could
attach so much value to things which seemed to her unappreciative mind
to be perfectly indifferent.

"Besides," she added, "if you