“Yes, I know—­but it is something especial.  You must tell no one—­not even your brother.”

“Speak, Excellency—­not even the stones shall hear it.”

“I want you to find out at the telegraph office whether your master has sent a telegram anywhere this morning.  Can you ask the man and bring me word here?  I will walk about under the trees.”

“At once, Excellency.”

He turned and left her, and she strolled up the path.  She wondered a little why she was doing this underhand thing.  It was not like her, and whatever answer Ruggiero brought her she would gain nothing by it.  If San Miniato had spoken the truth, then he had really believed the engagement already binding, as her mother had said.  If he had lied, that would not prevent his really telegraphing within the next half hour, and matters would be in just the same situation with a slight difference of time.  She would, indeed, in this latter case, have a fresh proof of his duplicity.  But she needed none, as it seemed to her.  It was enough that he should have acted his comedy last night and got by a stratagem what he could never have by any other means.  Ruggiero returned after two or three minutes.

“Well?” inquired Beatrice.

“He sent one at nine o’clock this morning, Excellency.”

For one minute their eyes met.  Ruggiero’s were fierce, bright and clear.  Beatrice’s own softened almost imperceptibly under his glance.  If she had seen herself at that moment she would have noticed that the hard look she had observed in her own face had momentarily vanished, and that she was her gentle self again.

“One only?” she asked.

“Only one, Excellency.  No one will know that I have asked, for the man will not tell.”

“Are you sure?  What did you say to him?  Tell me.”

“I said to him, ’Don Gennaro, I am the Conte di San Miniato’s sailor.  Has the Conte sent any telegram this morning, to any one, anywhere?’ Then he shook his head; but he looked into his book and said, ’He sent one to Florence at nine o’clock.’  Then I said, ’I thank you, Don Gennaro, and I will do you a service when I can.’  That was for good manners.  Then I said, ’Don Gennaro, please not to tell any one that I asked the question, and if you tell any one I will make you die an evil death, for I will break all your bones and moreover drown you in the sea, and go to the galleys very gladly.’  Then Don Gennaro said that he would not tell.  And here I am, Excellency.”

In spite of all she was suffering, Beatrice laughed at Ruggiero’s account of the interview.  It was quite evident that Ruggiero had repeated accurately every word that had been spoken, and he looked the man to execute the threat without the slightest hesitation.  Beatrice wondered how the telegraph official had taken it.

“What did Don Gennaro do when you frightened him, Ruggiero?” she asked.

“He said he would not tell and got a little white, Excellency.  But he will say nothing, and will not complain to the syndic, because he knows my brother.”