“Yes?  It is only the courage a woman need have.”  There was a pause, during which Benoni puffed much smoke and stroked his white moustache.  Hedwig turned over the leaves of her book, as though hinting to him to go.  But he had no idea of that.  A man who will not go because a woman loathes him will certainly not leave her for a hint.

“Countess,” he began again, at last, “will you listen to me?”

“I suppose I must.  I presume my father has left you here to insult me at your noble leisure.”

“Ah, countess, dear countess,”—­she shrank away from him,—­“you should know me better than to believe me capable of anything so monstrous.  I insult you?  Gracious heaven!  I, who adore you; who worship the holy ground whereon you tread; who would preserve the precious air you have breathed in vessels of virgin crystal; who would give a drop of my blood for every word you vouchsafe me, kind or cruel,—­I, who look on you as the only divinity in this desolate heathen world, who reverence you and do you daily homage, who adore you—­”

“You manifest your adoration in a singular manner, sir,” said Hedwig, interrupting him with something of her father’s severity.

“I show it as best I can,” the old scoundrel pleaded, working himself into a passion of words.  “My life, my fortune, my name, my honour,—­I cast them at your feet.  For you I will be a hermit, a saint, dwelling in solitary places and doing good works; or I will brave every danger the narrow earth holds, by sea and land, for you.  What?  Am I decrepit, or bent, or misshapen, that my white hair should cry out against me?  Am I hideous, or doting, or half-witted, as old men are?  I am young; I am strong, active, enduring.  I have all the gifts, for you.”

The baron was speaking French, and perhaps these wild praises of himself might pass current in a foreign language.  But when Nino detailed the conversation to me in our good, simple Italian speech, it sounded so amazingly ridiculous that I nearly broke my sides with laughing.

Hedwig laughed also, and so loudly that the foolish old man was disconcerted.  He had succeeded in amusing her sooner than he had expected.  As I have told you, the baron is a most impulsive person, though he is poisoned with evil from his head to his heart.

“All women are alike,” he said, and his manner suddenly changed.

“I fancy,” said Hedwig, recovering from her merriment, “that if you address them as you have addressed me you will find them very much alike indeed.”

“What good can women do in the world?” sighed Benoni, as though speaking with himself.  “You do nothing but harm with your cold calculations and your bitter jests.”  Hedwig was silent.  “Tell me,” he continued presently, “if I speak soberly, by the card as it were, will you listen to me?”

“Oh, I have said that I will listen to you!” cried Hedwig, losing patience.

“Hedwig von Lira, I hereby offer you my fortune, my name, and myself.  I ask you to marry me of your own good will and pleasure.”  Hedwig once more raised her brows.