“I think you do yourself injustice, dearest Marchesa,” said San Miniato, offering her his open case.  “You have, I think, a remarkably good understanding for business.  I really envy you.”

The Marchesa smiled languidly, and slowly inhaled the smoke from the cigarette as he held the match for her.

“I have no doubt you learned a great deal from the Marchese,” continued San Miniato.  “I must say that he displayed a keenness for his daughter’s interests such as merits the sincerest admiration.  Take the case, which happily has not arisen, dearest friend.  Suppose that Beatrice should discover that she had married a mere fortune-hunter.  The man would be entirely in your power and hers.  It is admirably arranged.”

“Admirably,” assented the Marchesa without a smile.  “It would be precisely as you say.  Beyond a few hundred thousand francs which he would control as the dowry, he could touch nothing.  He would be wholly dependent on his wife and his mother-in-law.  You see my dear husband wished to guard against even the most improbable cases.  How thankful I am that heaven has sent Beatrice such a man as you!”

“Always good!  Always kind!” San Miniato bent his head a little lower than was necessary as he looked at his watch.  He had something in his eyes which he preferred to hide.

Just then Beatrice’s step was heard on the tiled floor of the sitting-room, and neither the Marchesa nor San Miniato thought it worth while to continue the conversation with the danger of being overheard.

So the afternoon wore on, bright and cloudless, and when the air grew cool Beatrice and her mother drove out together along the Massa road, and far up the hill towards Sant’ Agata.  They talked little, for it is not easy to talk in the rattling little carriages which run so fast behind the young Turkish horses, and the roads are not always good, even in summer.  But San Miniato was left to his own devices and went and bathed, walking out into the water as far as he could and then standing still to enjoy the coolness.  Ruggiero saw him from the breakwater and watched him with evident interest.  The Count, as has been said before, could not swim a stroke, and was probably too old to learn.  But he liked the sea and bathing none the less, as Ruggiero knew.  He stayed outside the bathing-house fully half an hour, and then disappeared.

“It was not worth while,” said Ruggiero to himself, “since you are to take another bath so soon.”

Then he looked at the sun and saw that it lacked half an hour of sunset, and he went to see that all was ready for the evening.  He and Bastianello launched the old tub between them, and Ruggiero ballasted her with two heavy sacks of pebbles just amidships, where they would be under his feet.

“Better shift them a little more forward,” said Bastianello.  “There will be three passengers, you said.”

“We do not know,” answered Ruggiero.  “If there are three I can shift them quickly when every one is aboard.”