whisperings. It was
quite advanced, this allowing them to be so alone, but the Contessa
Santonini was an American and, moreover, the wedding was not far off.

One can be indulgent when the settlements are signed.

So only Maria Angelina and her book were stationed for propriety, and,
wanting another book, she had gone to the shelves and through the north
door, ajar, caught the words that held her intent.

"Three of them!" a masculine voice uttered explosively, and Maria knew
that Papa was speaking of his three daughters, Lucia, Julietta and Maria
Angelina--and she knew, too, that Papa had just come from the last
interview with the Tostis' lawyers.

The Tostis had been stiff in their demands and Papa had been more
complaisant than he should have been. Altogether that marriage was
costing him dear.

He had been figuring now with Mamma for a pencil went clattering to the
floor.

"And something especial," he proclaimed bitterly, "will have to be done
for Julietta!"

At that the eavesdropper could smile, a faint little smile of shy pride
and self-reliance.

Nothing especial would have to be done for _her_! A decent dowry, of
course, as befitting a daughter of the house, but she would need no
more, for Maria was eighteen, as white as a lily and as slender as an
aspen, with big, dark eyes like strange pools of night in her child's
face.

Whereas poor Julietta----!

"Madre Dio!" said Papa indignantly. "For what did we name her Julietta?
And born in Verona! A pretty sentiment indeed. But it was of no
inspiration to her--none!"

Mamma did not laugh although Papa's sudden chuckle after his explosion
was most irresistible.

"But if Fate went by names," he continued, "then would Maria Angelina be
for the life of religion." And he chuckled again.

Still Mamma did not laugh. Her pencil was scratching.

"It's a pity," murmured Papa, "that you did not embrace the faith, my
dear, for then we might arrange this matter. They used to manage these
things in the old days."

"Send Julietta into a convent?" cried Mamma in a voice of sudden energy.

Maria could not see but she knew that the Count shrugged.

"She appears built to coif Saint Catherine," he murmured.

"Julietta is a dear girl," said the Contessa in a warm voice.

"When one knows her excellencies."

"She will do very well--with enough dowry."

"Enough dowry--that is it! It will take all that is left for the two of
them to push Julietta into a husband's ar