retiring at night. In four or five days he thought he had made
great progress with all. Riccabocca watched him narrowly, and grew
absorbed in thought after every visit. At length one night, when he and
Mrs. Riccabocca were alone in the drawing-room, Violante having retired to
rest, he thus spoke as he filled his pipe:

"Happy is the man who has no children! Thrice happy he who has no girls!"

"My dear Alphonso!" said the wife, looking up from the wristband to which
she was attaching a neat mother-o'-pearl button. She said no more; it was
the sharpest rebuke she was in the custom of administering to her
husband's cynical and odious observations. Riccabocca lighted his pipe
with a thread paper, gave three great puffs, and resumed.

"One blunderbuss, four pistols, and a house-dog called Pompey, who would
have made mincemeat of Julius Caesar!"

"He certainly eats a great deal, does Pompey!" said Mrs. Riccabocca,
simply. "But if he relieves your mind!"

"He does not relieve it in the least, ma'am," groaned Riccabocca: "and
that is the point I was coming to. This is a most harassing life, and a
most undignified life. And I who have only asked from Heaven dignity and
repose! But, if Violante were once married, I should want neither
blunderbuss, pistol, nor Pompey. And it is that which would relieve my
mind, _cara mia_;--Pompey only relieves my larder!"

Now Riccabocca had been more communicative to Jemima than he had been to
Violante. Having once trusted her with one secret, he had every motive to
trust her with another; and he had accordingly spoken out his fears of the
Count di Peschiera. Therefore she answered, laying down the work, and
taking her husband's hand tenderly:

"Indeed, my love, since you dread so much (though I own that I must think
unreasonably) this wicked, dangerous man, it would be the happiest thing
in the world to see dear Violante well married; because, you see, if she
is married to one person, she can not be married to another; and all fear
of this Count, as you say, would be at an end."

"You can not express yourself better. It is a great comfort to unbosom
one's self to a wife, after all!" quoth Riccabocca.

"But," said the wife, after a grateful kiss: "but where and how can we
find a husband suitable to the rank of your daughter?"

"There--there--there," cried Riccabocca, pushing back his chair to the
farther end of the room: "that comes of unbosoming one's self! Out flies
one's secret; it