He looked at her and his eyes flashed dangerously, but he was mute.  Nina was evidently pleased to see him in such a vexed mood; she delighted to pique his pride, and as he steadily gazed at her in a sort of reproachful wonder, she laughed joyously.  Then rising from the table, she made us a coquettish courtesy.

“I will leave you two gentlemen to finish your wine together,” she said, “I know all men love to talk a little scandal, and they must be alone to enjoy it.  Afterward, will you join me in the veranda?  You will find coffee ready.”

I hastened to open the door for her as she passed out smiling; then, returning to the table, I poured out more wine for myself and Ferrari, who sat gloomily eying his own reflection in the broad polished rim of a silver fruit-dish that stood near him.  Giacomo, the butler, had long ago left the room; we were entirely alone.  I thought over my plans for a moment or two; the game was as interesting as a problem in chess.  With the deliberation of a prudent player I made my next move.

“A lovely woman!” I murmured, meditatively, sipping my wine, “and intelligent also.  I admire your taste, signor!”

He started violently.  “What—­what do you mean?” he demanded, half fiercely.  I stroked my mustache and smiled at him benevolently.

“Ah, young blood! young blood!” I sighed, shaking my head, “it will have its way!  My good sir, why be ashamed of your feelings?  I heartily sympathize with you; if the lady does not appreciate the affection of so ardent and gallant an admirer, then she is foolish indeed!  It is not every woman who has such a chance of happiness.”

“You think—­you imagine that—­that—­I—­”

“That you are in love with her?” I said, composedly.  “Ma—­ certamente!  And why not?  It is as it should be.  Even the late conte could wish no fairer fate for his beautiful widow than that she should become the wife of his chosen friend.  Permit me to drink your health!  Success to your love!” And I drained my glass as I finished speaking, Unfortunate fool!  He was completely disarmed; his suspicions of me melted away like mist before the morning light.  His face cleared—­he seized my hand and pressed it warmly.

“Forgive me, conte,” he said, with remorseful fervor; “I fear I have been rude and unsociable.  Your kind words have put me right again.  You will think me a jealous madman, but I really fancied that you were beginning to feel an attraction for her yourself, and actually--(pardon me, I entreat of you!) actually I was making up my mind to--to kill you!”

I laughed quietly.  “Veramente!  How very amiable of you!  It was a good intention, but you know what place is paved with similar designs?”

“Ah, conte, it is like your generosity to take my confession so lightly; but I assure you, for the last hour I have been absolutely wretched!”

“After the fashion of all lovers, I suppose,” I answered “torturing yourself without necessity!  Well, well, it is very amusing!  My young friend, when you come to my time of life, you will prefer the chink of gold to the laughter and kisses of women.  How often must I repeat to you that I am a man absolutely indifferent to the tender passion?  Believe it or not, it is true.”