Franchi opened his eyes, stretched himself, then yawned, and leaned his head upon his arm that rested on one of the small tables near.

“News?—­oh!—­ah!  There is plenty of news, but I am too tired to tell it.”

“News! and I not know it!” cried Count Malatesta.

Several others spoke, then all gathered round Franchi.  Count Malatesta slapped Franchi on the back.

“Come, my Trojan, speak.  I insist upon it,” said Orsetti, rising.

Franchi looked up at him.  There was a French cook at Palazzo Orsetti.  No one had such Chateau Lafitte.  Orazio is far from insensible to these blessings.

“Well, listen.  Old Sansovino has returned to his villa at Riparata.  His wife is with him.”

“His wife?” shouted Orsetti.  “Che, che!  Any woman but his wife, and I’ll believe you.  Why, she has lived for the last fifteen years with Duke Bartolo at Venice.  Sansovino did not mind the duke, but he charged her with forgery.  You remember?  About her dower.  There was a lawsuit, I think.  No, no—­not his wife.”

“Yes, his wife,” answered Franchi, crossing his arms with great deliberation.  “The Countess Sansovino was received by her attached husband with bouquets, and a band of music.  She drove up to the front-door in gala—­in a four-in-hand, a la Daumont.  All the tenantry were in waiting—­her children too (each by a different father)—­to receive her.  It was most touching.  Old Sansovino did it very well, they tell me.  He clasped her to his heart, and melted into tears like a pere noble”

“O Bello!” exclaimed Orsetti, “if old Sansovino cried, it must have been with shame.  After this, I will believe any thing.”

“The Countess Sansovino is very rich,” a voice remarked from the background.

“Well, if she forges, I suppose so,” another answered.

“O Marriage! large are the folds of thy ample mantle!” cried Count Malatesta.  “Who shall say we are not free in Italy?  Now, why do they not do this kind of thing in Lucca?  Will any one tell me?—­I want to know.”

There was a general laugh.  “Well, they may possibly do worse,” said Franchi, languidly.

“What do you mean?” asked Malatesta, sharply.  “Is there more scandal?”

Franchi nodded.  A crowd collected round him.

“How the devil, Franchi, do you know so much?  Out with it!  You must tell us.”

“Give me time!—­give me time!” was Franchi’s answer.  He raised his head, and eyed them all with a look of feigned surprise.  “Is it possible no one has heard it?”

He was answered by a general protest that nothing had been heard.

“Nobody knows what has happened at the Universo?” Franchi asked with unusual energy.

“No, no!” burst forth from Malatesta and Orsetti.  “No, no!” sounded from behind.

“That is quite possible,” continued Orazio, with a cynical smile.  “To tell you the truth, I did not think you had heard it.  It only happened half an hour ago.”