pose a marriage
to you, Count Marescotti."

"And who may the lady be?" asks the count, drawing back with a sudden
air of reserve. "Who is it that would consent to leave home and
friends, perhaps country, to share the lot of a fugitive patriot?"

"Come, come, count, this will not do," answers Trenta, smiling, a
certain twinkle returning to his blue eyes. "You are a perfectly free
agent. If you are a fugitive, it is because you like change. You bear
a great name--you are rich, singularly handsome--an ardent admirer of
beauty in art and Nature. Now, ardor on one side excites ardor on the
other."

While he is speaking, Trenta had mentally decided that Marescotti
was the most impracticable man he had ever encountered in the various
phases of his court career.

"A fugitive," he repeats, almost with a sneer. "No, no, count, this
will not do with me." The cavaliere pauses and clears his throat.

"You have not yet answered me," says the count, speaking low, a
certain suppressed eagerness penetrating the assumed indifference of
his manner. "Who is the lady?"

"Who is the lady?" echoes the cavaliere. "Did you not tell me just
now you were about to send for me?" Trenta speaks fast, a flush
overspreads his cheeks. "Who is the lady?--You astonish me! Per Bacco!
There can be but one lady in question between you and me--that lady is
Enrica Guinigi." His voice drops. There is a dead silence.

"That the marriage is suitable in all respects," Trenta continues,
reassured by the silence--"I need not tell you; else I, Cesare Trenta,
would not be here as the ambassador."

Again the stout little cavaliere stops to take breath, under evident
agitation; then he draws himself up, and turns his face toward the
count. As Trenta proceeds, Marescotti's brow is overclouded with
thought--a haggard expression now spreads over his features. His eyes
are turned downward on the floor, else the cavaliere might have
seen that their brilliancy is dimmed by rising tears. With his elbow
resting on the arm of the chair on which he sits, the count passes his
other hand from time to time slowly to and fro across his forehead,
pushing back the disordered curls that fall upon it.

"To restore and to continue an illustrious race--to unite yourself
with a lovely girl just bursting into womanhood." Trenta's voice
quivers as he says this. "Ah! lovely indeed, in mind as well as body,"
he adds, half aloud. "This is a privilege you, Count Marescotti, can
apprec