Susanna.

"Yes," said the Commendatore. "When I repeated that humbug about your
becoming a nun and resigning the properties to him, he held up his
hands in horror. 'She must not think of such a thing,' he cried.
'Tell the young lady that I could never conceivably accept such a
sacrifice. I understand her scruples, and they do her great honour.
But she and I and all of us must accept the situation as we find it.
She must not think of becoming a nun.' You see, he has good sense as
well as good feeling. That is what I have always told you myself--we
must accept the situation as we find it. There's no use trying to open
up the past."

"H'm," said Susanna, on a key of doubt.

"And then, with my heart in the business, for I had seen that he was of
the right stuff, then I proposed a marriage," said the Commendatore.
"I put it to him as strongly as I could. I painted the advantages in
vivid colours. But it was no good. He cannot marry you. He is
already betrothed."

"So you said," Susanna reminded him. "To a lady in England, I think?"

"Yes," assented the Commendatore. "It is a pity on our account that he
will not throw her over. But it is to his credit. Let me tell you it
is not every man in his position who would stick at the point of
honour. Consider the alternative. He throws over his Englishwoman,
and he becomes master not only of one of the noblest estates in Europe,
but of an estate which must have for him the incalculable additional
value of being his patrimony." Never chary of gesture, the speaker was
at this point lavish of it.

"May I be permitted," said Susanna, raising her eyebrows, "to admire
the light-hearted way in which you leave _me_ out of the saga?"

"You?" puzzled the Commendatore. "Out of the--what? What is a saga?"

"A Scandinavian legend," Susanna instructed him. "Now see how you
leave me out of your Scandinavian legend. 'Consider the alternative,'
said you. 'He throws over his Englishwoman, and he becomes--' Well,
_you_ said, 'Master of a noble estate.' But a really gallant person
might have said, 'Husband of a perfectly entrancing Italian woman.'"

She pulled a little face.

"Ha," laughed the Commendatore, briefly. "You must have your joke."
And his hand instinctively made for his moustaches. "Well, I am sorry.
I can never hope to find you a better husband."

"You need never try," said Susanna. "He will do."

"What?" said the Commendatore.

"He will do," said