Fanny Hafner. With her usual common-sense, and
with her instinct of arranging everything, Madame Steno perceived in the
union so many advantages for every one that she was in haste to conclude
it as quickly as if it involved a personal affair.

The marriage was earnestly desired by the Baron, who had spoken of it to
her for months. It suited Fanny, who would be converted to Catholicism
with the consent of her father. It suited the Prince, who at one stroke
would be freed from his embarrassment. Finally, it suited the name of
Castagna. Although Peppino was its only representative at that time,
and as, by an old family tradition, he bore a title different from the
patronymic title of Pope Urban VII, the sale of the celebrated palace
had called forth a scandal to which it was essential to put an end. The
Countess had forgotten that she had assisted, without a protestation, in
that sale. Had she not known through Hafner that he had bought at a low
price an enormous heap of the Prince's bills of exchange? Did she not
know the Baron well enough to be sure that M. Noe Ancona, the implacable
creditor who sold the palace, was only the catspaw of this terrible
friend? In a fit of ill-humor at the Baron, had she not herself accused
him in Alba's presence of this very simple plan, to bring Ardea to a
final catastrophe in order to offer him salvation in the form of
the union with Fanny, and to execute at the same time an excellent
operation? For, once freed from the mortgages which burdened them, the
Prince's lands and buildings would regain their true value, and the
imprudent speculator would find himself again as rich, perhaps richer.

"Come," said Madame Steno to the Prince, after a moment's silence and
without any preamble, "it is now time to talk business. You dined by the
side of my little friend yesterday; you had the entire evening in which
to study her. Answer me frankly, would she not make the prettiest little
Roman princess who could kneel in her wedding-gown at the tomb of
the apostles? Can you not see her in her white gown, under her veil,
alighting at the staircase of Saint Peter's from the carriage with the
superb horses which her father has given her? Close your eyes and see
her in your thoughts. Would she not be pretty? Would she not?"

"Very pretty," replied Ardea, smiling at the tempting vision Madame
Steno had conjured up, "but she is not fair. And you know, to me, a
woman who is not fair--ah, Countess! What a p