Baron's origin and the suit of ten years ago with all the
'pettogolezzi' to which it gave rise. All that has not the common
meaning. The Baron began life in a small way. He was from a family
of Jewish origin--you see, I do not deceive you--but converted two
generations back, so that the story of his change of religion since his
stay in Italy is a calumny, like the rest. He had a suit in which he was
acquitted. You would not require more than the law, would you?"

"No, but--"

"For what are you waiting, then?" concluded Madame Steno. "That it may
be too late? How about your lands?"

"Ah! let me breathe, let me fan myself," said Ardea, who, indeed, took
one of the Countess's fans from the desk. "I, who have never known in
the morning what I would do in the evening, I, who have always lived
according to my pleasure, you ask me to take in five minutes the
resolution to bind myself forever!"

"I ask you to decide what you wish to do," returned the Countess. "It is
very amusing to travel at one's pleasure. But when it is a question of
arranging one's life, this childishness is too absurd. I know of only
one way: to see one's aim and to march directly to it. Yours is very
clear--to get out of this dilemma. The way is not less clear; it is
marriage with a girl who has five millions dowry. Yes or no, will you
have her?... Ah," said she, suddenly interrupting herself, "I shall
not have a moment to myself this morning, and I have an appointment at
eleven o'clock!".... She looked at the timepiece on her table, which
indicated twenty-five minutes past ten. She had heard the door open.
The footman was already before her and presented to her a card upon a
salver. She took the card, looked at it, frowned, glanced again at the
clock, seemed to hesitate, then: "Let him wait in the small salon,
and say that I will be there immediately," said she, and turning again
toward Ardea: "You think you have escaped. You have not. I do not give
you permission to go before I return. I shall return in fifteen minutes.
Would you like some newspapers? There are some. Books? There are some.
Tobacco? This box is filled with cigars.... In a quarter of an hour I
shall be here and I will have your reply. I wish it, do you hear? I wish
it".... And on the threshold with another smile, using that time a term
of patois common in Northern Italy and which is only a corruption of
'schiavo' or servant: 'Ciao Simpaticone.'

"What a woman!" said Peppino Ardea, w