self," continued Giovanni, in low tones. He had seen
the blush, so rare a sight that there was not another man in Rome who had
seen it. He had not time to think what it meant. "It is only about
myself," he went on. "My father wants me to marry; he insists that I
should marry Donna Tullia--Madame Mayer."

"Well?" asked Corona. She shivered; a moment before, she had been
oppressed with the heat. Her monosyllabic question was low and
indistinct. She wondered whether Giovanni could hear the beatings of her
heart, so slow, so loud they almost deafened her.

"Simply this. Do you advise me to marry her?"

"Why do you ask me, of all people?" asked Corona, faintly.

"I would like to have your advice," said Giovanni, twisting his brown
hands together and fixing his bright eyes upon her face.

"She is young yet. She is handsome--she is fabulously rich. Why should
you not marry her? Would she make you happy?"

"Happy? Happy with her? No indeed. Do you think life would be bearable
with such a woman?"

"I do not know. Many men would marry her if they could--"

"Then you think I should?" asked Giovanni. Corona hesitated; she could
not understand why she should care, and yet she was conscious that there
had been no such struggle in her life since the day she had blindly
resolved to sacrifice herself to her father's wishes in accepting
Astrardente. Still there could be no doubt what she should say: how could
she advise any one to marry without the prospect of the happiness she had
never had?

"Will you not give me your counsel?" repeated Saracinesca. He had grown
very pale, and spoke with such earnestness that Corona hesitated no
longer.

"I would certainly advise you to think no more about it, if you are sure
that you cannot be happy with her."

Giovanni drew a long breath, the blood returned to his face, and his
hands unlocked themselves.

"I will think no more about it," he said. "Heaven bless you for your
advice, Duchessa!"

"Heaven grant I have advised you well!" said Corona, almost inaudibly.
"How cold this house is! Will you put down my cup of tea? Let us go near
the fire; Strillone is going to sing again."

"I would like him to sing a 'Nune dimittis, Domine,' for me," murmured
Giovanni, whose eyes were filled with a strange light.

Half an hour later Corona d'Astrardente went down the steps of the
Embassy wrapped in her furs and preceded by her footman. As she reached
the bottom Giovanni Saracinesca came swift