fingers with a caress; and the animal fawned on him.

"Forgive me, Mademoiselle." He said it as lightly as though there had
been only some trivial inattention to overlook.

The whole scene had taken place in a moment--so quickly, in fact, that
as Nina and he followed the princess through the adjoining rooms, she
half wondered if her senses had deceived her. What manner of man was
this indolent, graceful descendant of a feudal race? As he approached
the duke, Nina unconsciously held her breath. Half expecting to see them
draw daggers then and there, she glanced fearfully from one to the
other; but Giovanni, smiling his sleepy-eyed smile, talked as though he
thought the duke the most charming man in the world.

CHAPTER VIII

OPENING DAY AT THE TITLE MARKET

On the evening of the dance the Princess Malio, stiff, thin, and sour,
and the old Duchess Scorpa, stolid, ugly, and squat, sat together in a
corner of the ballroom--that is to say, the picture gallery--of the
Palazzo Sansevero.

"So that is the new American heiress!" said the duchess. "Very
presentable, I call her. My Todo might do worse than marry her--but of
course"--her face drew itself into the grimace that did duty for a
smile--"my Todo would have little chance for her favor in competition
with your nephew."

The princess bowed in acknowledgment and strongly protested against the
idea of any one's being able to compete with a Duke Scorpa.

The conversation between these two old women was always forced into just
such channels of conscious politeness. It was rarely that they disclosed
the antagonism that formed the chief spice of their lives. But the
princess could not control an impulse to destroy, if possible, the
satisfaction of her rival.

"My dear Duchess," she insinuated dulcetly, "do you really credit her
fabulous fortune?" Her manner expressed her pity for the other's
credulity. "Such a sum as five hundred thousand _lire_ a year too much
oversteps the mark of probability."

But the complacency of the duchess was not so easily disturbed. "Oh, no,
that is not right!" she broke in. "I have been assured that she has five
hundred thousand _dollars_ a year. Dollars! And there are five _lire_ in
every dollar, remember."

"Dollars!" echoed the princess--and her voice rose several notes above
normal pitch; in fact, she nearly screamed. "I am very certain you are
misinformed." But her skepticism barely covered her real chagrin because
her nephe