terly.

"Yourself--yourself indeed! What have you to say about it? This a family
matter. Would you have Saracinesca sold, to be distributed piecemeal
among a herd of dogs of starving relations you never heard of, merely
because you are such a vagabond, such a Bohemian, such a break-neck,
crazy good-for-nothing, that you will not take the trouble to accept one
of all the women who rush into your arms?"

"Your affectionate manner of speaking of your relatives is only surpassed
by your good taste in describing the probabilities of my marriage,"
remarked Giovanni, scornfully.

"And you say you never contradict me!" exclaimed the Prince, angrily.

"If this is an instance, I can safely say so. Comment is not
contradiction."

"Do you mean to say you have not repeatedly refused to marry?" inquired
old Saracinesca.

"That would be untrue. I have refused, I do refuse, and I will refuse,
just so long as it pleases me."

"That is definite, at all events. You will go on refusing until you have
broken your silly neck in imitating Englishmen, and then--good night
Saracinesca! The last of the family will have come to a noble end!"

"If the only use of my existence is to become the father of heirs to your
titles, I do not care to enjoy them myself."

"You will not enjoy them till my death, at all events. Did you ever
reflect that I might marry again?"

"If you please to do so, do not hesitate on my account. Madame Mayer will
accept you as soon as me. Marry by all means, and may you have a numerous
progeny; and may they all marry in their turn, the day they are twenty. I
wish you joy."

"You are intolerable, Giovanni. I should think you would have more
respect for Donna Tullia--"

"Than to call her Madame Mayer," interrupted Giovanni.

"Than to suggest that she cares for nothing but a title and a fortune--"

"You showed much respect to her a moment ago, when you suggested that she
was ready to rush into my arms."

"I! I never said such a thing. I said that any woman--"

"Including Madame Mayer, of course," interrupted Giovanni again.

"Can you not let me speak?" roared the Prince. Giovanni shrugged his
shoulders a little, poured out a glass of wine, and helped himself to
cheese, but said nothing. Seeing that his son said nothing, old
Saracinesca was silent too; he was so angry that he had lost the thread
of his ideas. Perhaps Giovanni regretted the quarrelsome tone he had
taken, for he presently spoke to his father i