ernal displeasure. Adonis was used to it, and
bore it patiently. He bore it because he could not help it. Although
by no means overburdened with brains, he was conscious that as yet he
was not sufficiently established in society to stand alone. Still,
he had too high an opinion of his personal beauty, fine clothes, and
general merits, to believe that the ladies of Lucca would permit of
his banishment by any arbitrary decree of the cavaliere.

"You had better find out the truth, cavaliere," he muttered, keeping
well out of the range of Trenta's stick, "before you put yourself in
such a passion."

"Domine Dio! that they should dare to utter such abominations!"
ejaculated the cavaliere. "Why, Enrica lives the life of a nun! I
doubt if she has ever seen Nobili--certainly she has never spoken to
him. Let Malatesta, and the young scoundrels at the club, attack
the married women. They can defend themselves. But, to calumniate an
innocent girl!--it is horrible!--it is unmanly! His highness the Duke
of Lucca would have banished the wretch forthwith. Ah! Italy is going
to the devil!--Now, Baldassare," he continued, turning round and
glaring upon Adonis, who still retreated cautiously before him, "I
have a great mind to send you home. We are about to meet the young
lady herself. You are not worthy to be in her company."

"I only repeated what Malatesta told me," urged Baldassare,
plaintively, looking very blank. "I am not answerable for him. Go and
quarrel with Malatesta, if you like, but leave me alone. You asked me
a question, and I answered you. That is all."

Baldassare had dressed himself with great care; his hair was
exquisitely curled for the occasion. He had nothing to do all day, and
the prospect of returning home was most depressing.

"You are not answerable for being born a fool!" was the rejoinder. "I
grant that. Who told Malatesta?" asked the cavaliere, turning sharply
toward Baldassare.

"He said he had heard it in many quarters. He insisted on having heard
it from one who had seen them together."

(Old Carlotta, sitting in her shop-door at the corner of the street of
San Simone, like an evil spider in its web, could have answered that
question.)

The cavaliere was still standing on the same spot, in the centre of
the street.

"Baldassare," he said, addressing him more calmly, "this is a wicked
calumny. The marchesa must not hear it. Upon reflection, I shall not
notice it. Malatesta is a chattering fool--