“Of course,” Nina said sweetly, eager to soothe his over-sensitive pride, “I have heard of the Carpazzi, but I do not know what is the title of your house.  I asked Count Tornik whether you were a duke.”

“I am Cesare di Carpazzi!” He said it as though he had announced that he was the Emperor of China.

“The Carpazzi are of the oldest nobility,” Giovanni interposed.  “Such a name is in itself higher than a title.”

Don Cesare bowed to Don Giovanni as though to say, “You see! thus it is!”

The subject would have simmered down, had not Tornik at this point set it boiling, by saying in an undertone to Nina, “Why all this fuss?  It is stupid, don’t you think?”

He spoke in French, carelessly articulated, but the sharp ears of Carpazzi overheard.

“Why all this fuss!” he repeated.  “It is insupportable that an upstart of ‘nobility’ styled p-r-ince”—­he snarled the word—­“a title that was bought with a tumbledown estate, dares to speak lightly the great name of the Carpazzi, a name that is higher than that of the reigning family.”

His flexible fingers flashed and grew stiff by turns.  Nina had seen a good deal of gesticulating since she had come to Rome; she had even been told that the different expressions of the hand had meanings quite as distinct as smiles or frowns or spoken words, and Carpazzi’s fingers certainly looked insulting, as with each snap he also snapped his lips.

“You know whereof I speak, Alessandro and Giovanni—­not even the Sansevero have the lineage of the Carpazzi!”

“Certainly, certainly, my friend,” answered Giovanni.  “No one is disputing the fact with you.”

“But I should think,” ventured Nina, her velvety eyes looking wonderingly into his flashing black ones, “that you would accept a title, it would make it so much simpler—­especially among strangers who do not know the family history.  A duke is a duke and a prince for instance——­”

Up went his hand, rigid, palm outward, and at right angles to his wrist, “There you are wrong.  A duke or a prince may be a parvenu.  For me to accept a title—­Non!  It would mean that the name of Carpazzi,”—­he lingered on the pronunciation—­“could be improved!  The name of Minotti, for instance, what does it say?  Nothing!  It is the name of a peasant.  It may be dressed up to masquerade as noble, if it has ‘Principe’ pushed along before it.  But it could not deceive a Roman.  It is not the ‘Principe’ before Sansevero that gives it renown.  Don Giovanni Sansevero is a greater title than the Marchese Di Valdo, by which Giovanni is generally known.  Yet Di Valdo is a good name, too, let me tell you.”

The Princess Sansevero kept Minotti’s attention as much as possible, so that it might appear that Carpazzi’s arraignment had not been heard.  All that Carpazzi said was perfectly true.  There was little therefore that Minotti could have answered.  He was a man of plebeian origin.  His father, a rich speculator, had bought a piece of property and assumed the title that went with it.  To a Roman the name Carpazzi was a great deal higher than that of any number of dukes and princes.