An ingenious idea occurred to him; to have arranged by his future father-in-law the quarrel which he considered at once absurd, useless, and dangerous.  The eagerness with which Gorka had accepted Hafner’s name, proved, as Dorsenne and Florent had divined, his desire that his perfidious mistress should be informed of his doings.  As for the Baron, he consented—­oh, irony of coincidences!—­by saying to Peppino Ardea words almost identical with those which Montfanon had uttered to Dorsenne: 

“We will draw up, in advance, an official plan of conciliation, and, if the matter can not be arranged, we will withdraw.”

It was in such terms that the memorable conversation was concluded, a conversation truly worthy of the combinazione which poor Fanny’s marriage represented.  There had been less question of the marriage itself than that of the services to be rendered to the infidelity of the woman who presided over the sorry traffic!  Is it necessary to add that neither Ardea nor his future father-in-law had made the shadow of an allusion to the true side of the affair?  Perhaps at any other time the excessive prudence innate to the Baron and his care never to compromise himself would have deterred him from the possible annoyances which might arise from an interference in the adventure of an exasperated and discarded lover.  But his joy at the thought that his daughter was to become a Roman princess—­and with what a name!—­had really turned his brain.

He had, however, the good sense to say to the stunned Ardea:  “Madame Steno must know nothing of it, at least beforehand.  She would not fail to inform Madame Gorka, and God knows of what the latter would be capable.”

In reality, the two men were convinced that it was essential, directly or indirectly, to beware of warning Maitland.  They employed the remainder of the afternoon in paying their visit to Florent, then in sending telegram after telegram to announce the betrothal, with which charming Fanny seemed more satisfied since Cardinal Guerillot had consented, at simply a word from her, to preside at her baptism.  The Baron, in the face of that consent, could not restrain his joy.  He loved his daughter, strange man, somewhat in the manner in which a breeder loves a favorite horse which has won the Grand Prix for him.  When Dorsenne arrived, bearing Chapron’s note and Montfanon’s message, he was received with a cordiality and a complaisance which at once enlightened him upon the result of the matrimonial intrigue of which Alba had spoken to him.

“Anything that your friend wishes, my dear sir....  Is it not so, Peppino?” said the Baron, seating himself at his table.  “Will you dictate the letter yourself, Dorsenne?....  See, is this all right?  You will understand with what sentiments we have accepted this mission when you learn that Fanny is betrothed to Prince Ardea, here present.  The news dates from three o’clock.  So you are the first to know it, is he not, Peppino?” He had drawn up not less than two hundred despatches.  “Return whenever you like with the Marquis....  I simply ask, under the circumstances, that the interview take place, if it be possible, between six and seven, or between nine and ten, in order not to interfere with our little family dinner.”