“We have finished just in time,” she continued, arranging the intendant’s papers.  She put them herself in their envelope, which she gave him.  She had an extremely delicate sense of hearing, and she knew that the door of the antechamber opened.  It seemed that the administrator took away in his portfolio all the preoccupation of this extraordinary woman.  For, after concluding that dry conversation, or rather that monologue, she had her clearest and brightest smile with which to receive the new arrival, who was, fortunately, Prince d’Ardea.  She said to the servant: 

“I wish to speak with the Prince.  If any one asks for me, do not admit him and do not send any one hither.  Bring me the card.”  Then, turning toward the young man, “Well, Simpaticone,” it was the nickname she gave him, “how did you finish your evening?”

“You would not believe me,” replied Peppino Ardea, laughing; “I, who no longer have anything, not even my bed.  I went to the club and I played....  For the first time in my life I won.”

He was so gay in relating his childish prank, he jested so merrily about his ruin, that the Countess looked at him in surprise, as he had looked at her on entering....  We understand ourselves so little, and we know so little about our own singularities of character, that each one was surprised at finding the other so calm.  Ardea could not comprehend that Madame Steno should not be at least uneasy about Gorka’s return and the consequences which might result therefrom.  She, on the other hand, admired the strange youth who, in his misfortune, could find such joviality at his command.  He had evidently expended as much care upon his toilette as if he had not to take some immediate steps to assure his future, and his waistcoat, the color of his shirt, his cravat, his yellow shoes, the flower in his buttonhole, all united to make of him an amiable and incorrigibly frivolous dandy.  She felt the need which strong characters have in the presence of weak ones; that of acting for the youth, of aiding him in spite of himself, and she attacked at once the question of marriage with Fanny Hafner.  With her usual common-sense, and with her instinct of arranging everything, Madame Steno perceived in the union so many advantages for every one that she was in haste to conclude it as quickly as if it involved a personal affair.

The marriage was earnestly desired by the Baron, who had spoken of it to her for months.  It suited Fanny, who would be converted to Catholicism with the consent of her father.  It suited the Prince, who at one stroke would be freed from his embarrassment.  Finally, it suited the name of Castagna.  Although Peppino was its only representative at that time, and as, by an old family tradition, he bore a title different from the patronymic title of Pope Urban VII, the sale of the celebrated palace had called forth a scandal to which it was essential to put an end.  The Countess had forgotten that she had assisted, without