The Prince, for his part, was by no means surprised, still less annoyed, at this request for an audience.  “We are going to see tears shed by lovely eyes,” said he, rubbing his hands; “she is coming to ask for grace; at last that proud beauty has to humble herself!  Really she has been too insupportable with her little independent airs!  Those eloquent eyes always seemed to be saying to me, at the least thing which annoyed her, ’Naples or Milan would be an abode offering very different attractions from those of your small town of Parma.’  True enough, I do not reign over Naples or Milan; but all the same, this fine lady has come to ask me something which depends exclusively upon me, and which she is burning to obtain.  I always thought the coming of that nephew would give me some hold upon her.”

While the Prince was smiling over his thoughts, and giving himself up to all these agreeable anticipations, he was striding up and down his cabinet, at the door of which General Fontana still remained standing, erect and stiff as a soldier at carry-arms.  Seeing the Prince’s flashing eye and recalling the Duchess’s traveling dress, he prepared for a dissolution of the monarchy.  His confusion knew no bounds when he heard the Prince’s order:  “Beg Madame the Duchess to wait a small quarter of an hour.”  The general-aide-de-camp executed a right-about-face, like a soldier on parade; the Prince still smiled.  “Fontana is not accustomed,” he said to himself, “to see our proud Duchess kept waiting.  The astonished face with which he has gone to tell her ’to wait that small quarter of an hour’ will pave the way for those touching tears which this cabinet is about to witness.”  This small quarter of an hour was delicious to the Prince; he paced the floor with a firm and measured step, he reigned.  “The important thing now is to say nothing which is not perfectly in keeping.  It will not do to forget that she is one of the highest ladies of my court.  How would Louis XIV. have spoken to the princesses his daughters when he had occasion to be displeased with them?” and his eyes sought the portrait of the great king.

The amusing part of the matter was that the Prince did not even think of asking himself whether he would show clemency to Fabrice, and how far such clemency would go.  Finally, at the end of twenty minutes, the faithful Fontana presented himself anew at the door, but without uttering a word.  “The Duchess Sanseverina may enter,” cried the Prince with a theatrical air.  “The tears are about to commence,” he told himself, and as if to be prepared for such a spectacle, he drew out his handkerchief.

Never had the Duchess appeared so gay and charming; she did not look twenty-five.  The poor aide-de-camp, seeing that her light and rapid footstep barely seemed to skim the carpet, was on the point of losing his reason once for all.

“I must crave many pardons of your Most Serene Highness,” said the Duchess in her soft tones of careless gayety:  “I have taken the liberty of presenting myself in a toilette which is not altogether appropriate; but your Highness has so accustomed me to his favors that I have ventured to hope that he would accord me this additional grace.”