He weakened, hesitated.  “Give me your promise you will not tell Leonora——?”

“You have it!” She put her hand back into his.

“It is this, then:  I am the weakest man imaginable.  To-night I had no idea of playing; I held out for some time, but the temptation was too strong at the end.  Also what I lost was very little, but the money was a sum we had put aside to pay household expenses.  If I do not pay them, Leonora must know of it.”

Between the lines Nina divined a good deal of the whole story.  Other vague suspicions that had come to her here and there helped somewhat to the conclusion.

Already they had driven into the courtyard and the footman was holding open the door.  Nina jumped out quickly and entered the palace.  In the antechamber she stopped for her uncle to catch up with her.  “Just wait a moment,” she said; “we can finish our conversation quickly.”  She spoke rapidly and in English.

“How much is it?”

“Five hundred lire.”

She caught her breath.  “Do you mean to say that you—­the Prince Sansevero, the owner of this palace, are in need of a hundred dollars, and don’t know where to get it?  You shall have it to-morrow, the first thing.”

Then suddenly she added:  “Uncle Sandro—­I want you to tell me something!  Will you swear on your honor to answer the truth?  If you deceive me, I will never forgive you to my dying day!”

He looked at her, puzzled.  There was no doubt as to the gravity of her tone.  “I will answer if I can.”  He said it not without alarm.

“Does your brother gamble?  Is he also like Tornik and you?” She had no thought for the stigma of her words, and Sansevero was not so small that he resented them.

“No.  I can answer that easily enough.  Giovanni has not one drop of the gambling blood.  That I can swear to you by the name of my mother!” He made the sign of the cross.

Nina sighed with relief.  “I’ll send Celeste to you with the money in the morning, and you can trust me—­I will never let Aunt Eleanor know!” She said it sympathetically and kindly enough, but her tone was a little constrained.  “Good-night!”

And then quickly she left him.  She felt sure that her uncle had spoken the truth, and that Giovanni was not a gambler; but as she went down the long corridors she felt a sharp contraction in her throat.  “Dear—­poor—­precious Auntie Princess!” she whispered to herself.

CHAPTER XVIII

FAVORITA DRIVES A BARGAIN

As the winter progressed, Favorita’s temper showed so little improvement that those whose duty brought them in contact with her at the theatre were on the verge of resigning their posts.  Her dresser had a thoroughly cowed expression; her manager consumed more black cigars than were good for him; the corps de ballet had hysterics singly and indignation councils en masse.  In fact, the call-boy, who seemed to enjoy tormenting her, was the only member of the company who took her rages cheerfully.