me me," she sobbed, "I am a good girl and Pedro my
husband by promise."

Sansevero looked helpless for a moment and then seemed wavering. The
woman caught at the opportunity and repeated her cry, this time to the
princess, but there was no indecision in the latter's manner as she
spoke now in her husband's stead.

"Thou knowest, Marcella, that the veil and the wreath are only for such
as are maidens! Say no more, I speak not of goodness, Pedro comes to the
house of the padre--at eight. Be a faithful wife and mother, and so
shalt thou have honor--better than by the wearing of a wreath."

She put her hand on the girl's head, with a kindness that took away all
sting from her words. And Marcella made no further protest, although as
the pony-cart drove on, she remained weeping before the door.

Sansevero himself looked dejected. "Don't you think, dear one," he
protested, "that you were rather severe! What difference can it make
after all, whether the poor girl wears a few leaves in her hair or a bit
of tulle?"

But the princess was inflexible. "It would not be just to the others,"
she answered, "since we made this rule there has been a great difference
in the village. It is almost rare now that the family arrives before
the wedding. The question of irregularity never used trouble the girls
at all. The only disgrace they seem able to feel is that they may not
dress as brides; and that being the case, I think we have to be strict."

"All right, wise one," said the prince as he drew up at the post-office,
"I am sure you know best." He looked at her with such obvious
satisfaction that two urchins standing by the road-side grinned. The
post-master hurried out with the mail, and the princess looked through
the letters. One with an American stamp held her attention. As she read,
her cheeks flushed with pleasure, her eyes grew bright, a sweet and
tender expression came into her face.

"Nina is coming!" she cried. Gladness rang in her voice. "Coming for the
whole winter--let me see, the letter is dated the fifteenth--she will
sail this week. Oh, Sandro, I am so happy!"

For a moment it would have been hard to say which looked more pleased,
the prince or the princess. But then, as though by thought transference,
in blank consternation each stared at the other, and exclaimed in the
same breath, "But how about Rome?"

In silence the prince turned the pony about and slowly they drove back
up the hills.

CHAPTER II

TH