We went to see him at noon the next day.  He was with an elderly man and woman, to whom he introduced us.  He introduced me by name, and Rosalie as a person who belonged to me.

We proceeded to walk in the garden, where the two old people got Rosalie between them, and overwhelmed her with politeness and complimentary remarks.  She, who was happy and in high spirits, answered in Italian, and delighted them by her intelligence, and the grace which she gave to her mistakes in grammar.

The servants came to tell us that dinner was ready, and what was my astonishment on entering the room to see the table laid for six.  I did not want much insight now to see through the marquis’s trick, but it was too late.  We sat down, and just then a young man came in.

“You are a little late,” said the marquis; and then, without waiting for his apology, he introduced him to me as M. Petri, his godson, and nephew to his other guests, and he made him sit down at his left hand, Rosalie being on his right.  I sat opposite to her, and seeing that she turned as pale as death the blood rushed to my face; I was terribly enraged.  This small despot’s plot seemed disgraceful to me; it was a scandalous insult to Rosalie and myself—­an insult which should be washed away in blood.  I was tempted to stab him at his table, but in spite of my agitation I constrained myself.  What could I do?  Take Rosalie’s arm, and leave the room with her?  I thought it over, but foreseeing the consequences I could not summon up courage.

I have never spent so terrible an hour as at that fatal dinner.  Neither Rosalie nor myself ate a morsel, and the marquis who helped all the guests was discreet enough not to see that we left one course after another untouched.  Throughout dinner he only spoke to Petri and his uncle, giving them opportunities for saying how large a trade they did.  At dessert the marquis told the young man that he had better go and look after his affairs, and after kissing his hand he withdrew with a bow to which nobody replied.

Petri was about twenty-four, of a moderate height, with ordinary but yet good-natured and honest features; respectful in his manner, and sensible though not witty in what he said.  After all was said and done, I thought him worthy of Rosalie, but I shuddered at the thought that if she became his wife she was lost to me forever.  After he had gone, the marquis said he was sorry he had not known him before as he might be of use to him in his business.

“However, we will see to that in the future,” said he, meaningly, “I mean to make his fortune.”

At this the uncle and aunt, who no doubt knew what to say, began to laud and extol their nephew, and ended by saying that as they had no children they were delighted that Petri, who would be their heir, was to have his excellency’s patronage.

“We are longing,” they added, “to see the girl from Marseilles he is going to marry.  We should welcome her as a beloved daughter.”