“Every one knows,” rejoined the princess, “that di Valdo has made heavy debts, yet he is not a gambler like his brother Sansevero, and he has no personal extravagances that account for the sums borrowed.”

The “collaress” answered nothing, and the fat duchess, who had so far been only a listener, drew her head in like a snapping turtle as she made the satisfactory observation that her “Todo” was now the partner of the heiress.

The Duke Scorpa and Nina, standing for the commencement of a quadrille, suggested rather a brigand and a princess than a duke and a titleless daughter of the democracy.  Nina was holding her head very high, yet easily and unconsciously, because it was her natural way of standing.  The dancing had brought color to her cheeks, and her eyes were sparkling; but it was at the evening in general, not at the man who at that moment was trying to please her.  She could not bear the duke’s sharp little black eyes, his brutal square jaw, his unctuous manners; and as he took her hand to lead her down a figure of the quadrille, its thickness felt to her imagination like a paw.

Dancing vis-a-vis were Giovanni and the Contessa Potensi.  Nina did not know her name or anything about her, but she felt at first sight a subtle antagonism, and, following an instinct that she would have found difficult to account for, she turned her attention away toward a second personality, which fascinated her in as great a degree as that of the Potensi had repelled.

“Who is that over there?” she asked of the duke.  “I mean the slender girl in black.”

“The Contessa Olisco.  She was a Russian princess.  Her name was Zoya Kromitskoff.  I thought the name of Zoya pretty once—­that is, until I heard the name of N-i-n-a!”

As he said her name they were just turning around the last figure, and she might not, without attracting attention, snatch her hand from his; but his familiarity in using her Christian name made her cheeks burn.  In the final courtesy she barely inclined her head, and at the close of the dance went in quest of her aunt without noticing his proffered arm.  At this unheard-of behavior, the duke hurried after her, biting his mustache.

“Ah, ha!” ejaculated the old princess in the ear of the Marchesa Valdeste, “that cuttlefish of a Scorpa has thrown his tentacles out too far, and the goldfish is scurrying away in alarm.”  She fanned herself in agitated satisfaction at her triumph over the duchess—­who was pretending that she had noticed no coolness in the American’s treatment of her son.

The next moment the Princess Sansevero brought Nina to present her to the marchesa.  Nina had been dancing at the time of the arrival of the “collaress” and must therefore be presented at the first opportunity.  The marchesa, with a few kindly remarks about her dancing, would have let her return to her partners, but the duchess moved ponderously aside on the sofa, making a place for Nina.  Without prelude she began, “Is it true that you have five hundred thousand dollars a year?  Or is rumor mistaken—­is it only five hundred thousand lire?”