moving
her even so much as to blush a little, or to lower the gaze of her eyes
that looked them all indifferently through and through.

Giovanni, however, did not appear, and people told her he would not leave
his room for several days, so that she returned to her home without
having accomplished anything in the matter. Her husband was very silent,
but looked at her with an expression of uncertainty, as though hesitating
to speak to her upon some subject that absorbed his interest. Neither of
them referred to the strange interview of the previous night. They went
home early, as has been already recorded, seeing it was only a great and
formal reception to which the world went that night; and even the
toughest old society jades were weary from the ball of the day before,
which had not broken up until half-past six in the morning.

On the next day, at about twelve o'clock, Corona was sitting in her
boudoir writing a number of invitations which were to be distributed in
the afternoon, when the door opened and her husband entered the room.

"My dear," he cried in great excitement, "it is perfectly horrible! Have
you heard?"

"What?" asked Corona, laying down her pen.

"Spicca has killed Casalverde--the man who seconded Del Ferice
yesterday,--killed him on the spot--"

Corona uttered an exclamation of horror.

"And they say Del Ferice is dead, or just dying"--his cracked voice rose
at every word; "and they say," he almost screamed, laying his withered
hand roughly upon his wife's shoulder,--"they say that the duel was about
you--you, do you understand?"

"That is not true," said Corona, firmly. "Calm yourself--I beseech you to
be calm. Tell me connectedly what has happened--who told you this story."

"What right has any man to drag your name into a quarrel?" cried the old
man, hoarsely. "Everybody is saying it--it is outrageous, abominable--"

Corona quietly pushed her husband into a chair, and sat down beside him.

"You are excited--you will harm yourself,--remember your health," she
said, endeavouring to soothe him. "Tell me, in the first place, who told
you that it was about me."

"Valdarno told me; he told me that every one was saying it--that it was
the talk of the town."

"But why?" insisted Corona. "You allow yourself to be furious for the
sake of a piece of gossip which has no foundation whatever. What is the
story they tell?"

"Some nonsense about Giovanni Saracinesca's going away last week. Del
Feri