of his
folly, but it was perhaps on her account that he had never proposed to
marry Donna Tullia; he had, then, only been amusing himself with Corona.
That all seemed likely enough--so likely, that it heightened the
certainty of Del Ferice's information.

A few days later, as Giovanni had intended, news began to reach Rome that
he had been in Florence, and was actually in Paris; then it was said that
he was going upon a shooting expedition somewhere in the far north
during the summer. It was like him, and in accordance with his tastes. He
hated the quiet receptions at the great houses during Lent, to which, if
he remained in Rome, he was obliged to go. He naturally escaped when he
could. But there was no escape for Donna Tullia, and after all she
managed to extract some amusement from these gatherings. She was the
acknowledged centre of the more noisy set, and wherever she went,
people who wanted to be amused, and were willing to amuse each other,
congregated around her. On one of these occasions she met old
Saracinesca. He did not go out much since his son had left; but he seemed
cheerful enough, and as he liked Madame Mayer, for some inscrutable
reason, she rather liked him. Moreover, her interest in Giovanni, though
now the very reverse of affectionate, made her anxious to know something
of his movements.

"You must be lonely since Don Giovanni has gone upon his travels again,"
she said.

"That is the reason I go out," said the Prince. "It is not very gay, but
it is better than nothing. It suggests cold meat served up after the
dessert; but when people are hungry, the order of their food is not of
much importance."

"Is there any news, Prince? I want to be amused."

"News? No. The world is at peace, and consequently given over to sin, as
it mostly is when it is resting from a fit of violence."

"You seem to be inclined to moralities this evening," said Donna Tullia,
smiling, and gently swaying the red fan she always carried.

"Am I? Then I am growing old, I suppose. It is the privilege of old age
to censure in others what it is no longer young enough to praise in
itself. It is a bad thing to grow old, but it makes people good, or makes
them think they are, which in their own eyes is precisely the same
thing."

"How delightfully cynical!"

"Doggish?" inquired the Prince, with a laugh. "I have heard it said by
scholars, that cynical means doggish in Greek. The fable of the dog in
the horse's manger was inv