d's death I have sacrificed
my life to the duties imposed on me by my position. So must Enrica. No
personal feeling for her shall bias me in the least."

Her eyes were fixed on those of Trenta. She paused again, and passed
her white hand slowly one over the other. The cavaliere looked down;
he durst not meet her glance, lest she should read his thoughts.
Thinking of Enrica at that moment, he absolutely hated her!

"What would you advise me to do?" she asked, at last. Her voice fell
as she put the question.

Trenta had been waiting for this direct appeal. Now his tongue was
unloosed.

"I will tell you, Signora Marchesa, plainly what I would advise you
to do," was his answer. "Let Enrica marry Marescotti. Put the whole
matter into my hands, if you have sufficient confidence in me."

"Remember, Trenta, the humiliation!"

"What humiliation?" asked the cavaliere, with surprise.

"The humiliation involved in the confession that my niece is almost
portionless." The words seemed to choke her. "She will inherit all I
have to leave," and she glanced significantly at the cavaliere; "but
that is--you understand me?--uncertain."

"Bagatella!--that will be all right," he rejoined, with alacrity. "The
idea of money will not sway Marescotti in the least. He is wealthy--a
fine fellow. Have no fear of that. Leave it all to me, Enrica, and
Marescotti. I am an old courtier. Many a royal marriage has passed
through my hands. Per Bacco--though no one but the duke knew
it--through my hands! You may trust me, marchesa."

There was a proud consciousness of the past in the old man's face. He
showed such perfect confidence in himself that he imparted the same
confidence to the marchesa.

"I would trust no one else, Cesarino," she said, rising from her
chair. "But be cautious; bind me to nothing until we meet again. I
must hear all that passes between you and the count, then judge for
myself."

"I will obey you in all things, noble lady," replied Trenta,
submissively.

How he dreaded betraying his secret exultation! To emancipate
Enrica from her miserable life by an honorable marriage, was, to his
benevolent heart, infinite happiness!

"Good-night, marchesa. May you repose well!"

"Good-night, Cesarino--a rivederci!"

So they parted.

CHAPTER IX.

THE COUNTESS ORSETTI'S BALL.

The ball at Casa Orsetti was much canvassed in Lucca. Hospitality is
by no means a cardinal virtue in Italy. Even in the greatest houses,
t