w breaks out all over into smiles. "Send for
me," he repeats to himself. "Good, good! I understand." He seats
himself with great deliberation in a large, well-stuffed arm-chair,
near the table, at which Marescotti still continues standing. He
places his cane across his knees, folds his hands together, then looks
up in the other's face.

"Yes, yes, my dear count," he answers aloud, "we have much to say to
each other--much to say on a most interesting subject." And he gives
the count what he intends to be a very meaning glance.

"Interesting!" exclaims the count, his whole countenance lighting
up--"enthralling, overwhelming!--a matter to me of life or death!"

As he speaks he turns aside, and begins to stride up and down the
room, as was his wont when much moved.

"He! he! my dear count, pray be calm." And Trenta gives a little
laugh, and feebly winks. "We hope it is a matter of _life_, not of
_death_--no--not of _death_, surely."

"Of death," replied the count, solemnly, and his mobile eyes flash
out, and a dark frown gathers on his brow--"of death, I repeat. Do you
take me for a trifler? I stake my life on the die."

Trenta felt considerably puzzled. Before he begins, he is anxious to
assure himself that the nature of his errand had at least distinctly
dawned upon the count's mind, if it had not (as he hoped) been fully
understood by him. Should he let Marescotti speak first; or should he,
Trenta, address him formally? In order to decide, he again scans the
count's face closely. But, after doing so, he is obliged to confess
that Marescotti is impenetrable. Now he no longer strode up and down
the room, but he has seated himself opposite the cavaliere, and again
his speaking eyes have wandered off toward the book which he has
been reading. It is evident he is mentally resuming the same train of
thought Trenta's entrance had interrupted. Trenta feels therefore that
he must begin. He has prepared himself for some transcendentalism
on the subject of marriage; but with a man who is so much in love as
Count Marescotti, and who was about to send for him and to tell him
so, there can be no great difficulty; nor can it matter much who opens
the conversation. The cavaliere takes a spotless handkerchief from his
pocket, uses it, replaces it, then coughs.

"Count," he begins, in a tone of conscious importance, "when I
proposed this meeting, it was to make you a proposal calculated to
exercise the utmost influence over your f