No sooner was this idea conceived than he determined, if he married at all (marriage to a young man leading his dissipated life is a serious step), that, of all living women, the marchesa’s niece should be his wife.  All this time he had never seen Enrica.  Yes, he would marry the niece, to spite the marchesa.  Marry—­she, the marchesa, should see a Guinigi head his board; a Guinigi seated at his hearth; worse than all, a Guinigi mother of his children!

All this he kept closely locked within his own breast.  As the marchesa had intimated to him, at the time he bought the palace, that she would never permit him to cross her threshold, he was debarred from taking the usual social steps to accomplish his resolve.  Not that he in the least desired to see her, save for that overbearing disposition which impelled him to combat all opposition.  With great difficulty, and after having expended various sums in bribes among the ill-paid servants of the marchesa, he had learned the habits of her household.

Enrica, he found, had a servant, formerly her nurse, who never left her.  Teresa, this servant, was cautiously approached.  She was informed that Count Nobili was distractedly in love with the signorina, and addressed himself to her for help.  Teresa, ignorant, well-meaning, and brimming over with that mere animal fondness for her foster-child uneducated women share with brute creatures, was proud of becoming the medium of what she considered an advantageous marriage for Enrica.  The secluded life she led, the selfish indifference with which her aunt treated her, had long moved Teresa’s passionate southern nature to a high pitch of indignation.  Up to this time no man had been permitted to enter Casa Guinigi, save those who formed the marchesa’s whist-party.

“How, then,” reasoned Teresa, shrewdly, “was the signorina to marry at all?  Surely it was right to help her to a husband.  Here was one, rich, handsome, and devoted, one who would give the eyes out of his head for the signorina.”  Was such an opportunity to be lost?  Certainly not.

So Teresa took Nobili’s bribes (bribes are as common in Italy as in the East), putting them to fructify in the National Bank with an easy conscience.  Was she not emancipating her foster-child from that old devil, her aunt?  Had she not seen Nobili himself when he sent for her?—­seen him, face to face, inside his palace glittering like paradise?  And had he not given her his word, with his hand upon his heart (also given her a pair of solid gold ear-rings, which she wore on Sundays), that to marry Enrica was the one hope of his life?  Seeing all this, Teresa was, as I have said, perfectly satisfied.