e John turned down one path which, after several curves and turns,
came to an abrupt ending beneath the spreading branches of an acacia
tree which had been converted into a bower by a thick, climbing vine,
whose matted leaves and purple blossoms effectually screened off the
garden beyond.

While he stood gazing around him to find a way out without retracing his
steps, a clear voice within a few feet of him caused him to start. The
voice spoke in vehement Italian, and came from the other side of the
screen of vines. It was sharp and garrulous in tone, and although Uncle
John did not understand the words he recognized their dominating accent.

The Duke replied, slowly and sullenly, and whatever he said had the
effect of rousing the first speaker to fierce anger.

The American became curious. He found a place where the leaves were
thinner than elsewhere, and carefully pressing them apart looked through
the opening. Beyond was a clear space, well shaded and furnished with
comfortable settles, tables and chairs. It adjoined a wing of the
dwelling, which stood but a few paces away and was evidently occupied by
the women of the household. The old Duchessa, her face still like a
death mask but her eyes glittering with the brightness of a serpent's,
sat enthroned within a large chair in the center of a family group. It
was her sharp voice that had first aroused the American's attention.
Opposite her sat the Duke, his thin face wearing an expression of gloom
and dissatisfaction. The child Tato occupied a stool at her father's
feet, and in the background were three serving women, sewing or
embroidering. Near the Duke stood the tall brigand known as Pietro.

Answering the old woman's fierce tirade, Tato said:

"It is foolish to quarrel in Italian. The servants are listening."

"Let us then speak in English," returned the Duchessa. "These are
matters the servants should not gossip about."

The Duke nodded assent. Both Tato and her grandmother spoke easily the
foreign tongue; the Duke was more uncertain in his English, but
understood it perfectly.

"I am still the head of this family," resumed the Duchessa, in a more
moderate tone. "I insist that my will be obeyed."

"Your dignity I have the respect for," replied the Duke, laboredly; "but
you grow old and foolish."

"Foolish! I?"

"Yes; you are absurd. You live in past centuries. You think to-day we
must do all that your ancestors did."

"Can you do better?"

"Yes; th