Derby's company, and it might be that he and
Cecelia could be married.

Nina had already observed the young girl in question and she and
Carpazzi made their way toward her. Gradually other young people joined
them until a merry group was formed at that side of the room.

The music at that moment was by a young violinist, a _protege_ of the
Princess Sansevero's (a brother, by the way, of the peasant Marcella,
whose marriage to Pedro the princess had arranged). The boy had real
talent, and the princess had denied herself not a few things in order to
help him complete his education.

At the close of his second selection the young violinist came over to
her, with that look of devoted allegiance which cannot be imitated, and
the princess held out her hand for him to kiss. "I am so pleased with
your success," she said to him. "Come, I want to present you to the
Duchessa Astarte, who was much delighted with your playing." Smiling,
she led him away.

The young man traversed the rooms with perfect ease and
unconsciousness--this peasant boy who four years previously had run
ragged and barefooted, begging for soldos from the tourists who were
driving out to Torre Sansevero! From one of the doorways Sansevero
watched them. "_Per Dio_, she is wonderful, my Leonora!" he exclaimed to
the Countess Masco, whom he had taken to the supper room. "Look what
she has made of that ragamuffin! You Americans are an extraordinary
people." The countess, as she watched the prince's open admiration of
his wife, showed the finest, the most generous side of her cheerful
nature. Her expression was scarcely less admiring than his own.

"I'd like well enough to take all the credit for my country," she
returned, with her usual good humor, "but in Eleanor's case it is the
woman and not the nationality that is wonderful----" Then she added
brusquely, "I'm glad you appreciate her." The next moment she tossed the
topic aside and discoursed noisily of the latest Roman gossip.

About this time the Count and Countess Olisco were announced. Seeing
Derby, who had arrived just ahead of them, Zoya walked up to him without
hesitation or manoeuvre. "I should like to talk to you," she said; "will
you take me to a seat? There is one over there."

He gave her his arm and led her to a sofa at the far end of the room.
"Have you been out to Torre Sansevero?" she asked when they had sat
down.

"No. We had planned to motor out next week, but I must go to Sicily
to-m