vanity; and the cavaliere Valsecca was for a while the reigning favourite.  It would have been hard to say whether his patron was most tickled by his zeal for economic reforms, or by his faith in the perfectibility of man.  Both these articles of Odo’s creed drew tears of enjoyment from the old Duke’s puffy eyes; and he was never tired of declaring that only his hatred for his nephew of Pianura induced him to accord his protection to so dangerous an enemy of society.

Odo at first fancied that it was in response to a mere whim of the Duke’s that he had been despatched to Monte Alloro; but he soon perceived that the invitation had been inspired by Maria Clementina’s wish.  Some three months after Odo’s arrival, Cantapresto suddenly appeared with a packet of letters from the Duchess.  Among them her Highness had included a few lines to Odo, whom she briefly adjured not to return to Pianura, but to comply in all things with her uncle’s desires.  Soon after this the old Duke sent for Odo, and asked him how his present mode of life agreed with his tastes.  Odo, who had learned that frankness was the surest way to the Duke’s favour, replied that, while nothing could be more agreeable than the circumstances of his sojourn at Monte Alloro, he must own to a wish to travel when the occasion offered.

“Why, this is as I fancied,” replied the Duke, who held in his hand an open letter on which Odo recognised Maria Clementina’s seal.  “We have always,” he continued, “spoken plainly with each other, and I will not conceal from you that it is for your best interests that you should remain away from Pianura for the present.  The Duke, as you doubtless divine, is anxious for your return, and her Highness, for that very reason, is urgent that you should prolong your absence.  It is notorious that the Duke soon wearies of those about him, and that your best chance of regaining his favour is to keep out of his reach and let your enemies hang themselves in the noose they have prepared for you.  For my part, I am always glad to do an ill-turn to that snivelling friar, my nephew, and the more so when I can seriously oblige a friend; and, as you have perhaps guessed, the Duke dares not ask for your return while I show a fancy for your company.  But this,” added he with an ironical twinkle, “is a tame place for a young man of your missionary temper, and I have a mind to send you on a visit to that arch-tyrant Ferdinand of Naples, in whose dominions a man may yet burn for heresy or be drawn and quartered for poaching on a nobleman’s preserves.  I am advised that some rare treasures have lately been taken from the excavations there and I should be glad if you would oblige me by acquiring a few for my gallery.  I will give you letters to a cognoscente of my acquaintance, who will put his experience at the disposal of your excellent taste, and the funds at your service will, I hope, enable you to outbid the English brigands who, as the Romans say, would carry off the Colosseum if it were portable.”