I glanced keenly round the riotous board—­I noted the flushed faces and rapid gesticulations of my guests, and listened to the Babel of conflicting tongues.  I drew a long breath as I looked—­I calculated that in two or three minutes at the very least I might throw down the trump card I had held so patiently in my hand all the evening.

I took a close observation of Ferrari.  He had edged his chair a little away from mine, and was talking confidentially to his neighbor, Captain de Hamal—­his utterance was low and thick, but yet I distinctly heard him enumerating in somewhat coarse language the exterior charms of a woman—­what woman I did not stop to consider—­ the burning idea struck me that he was describing the physical perfections of my wife to this De Hamal, a mere spadaccino, for whom there was nothing sacred in heaven or earth.  My blood rapidly heated itself to boiling point—­to this day I remember how it throbbed in my temples, leaving my hands and feet icy cold.  I rose in my seat, and tapped on the table to call for silence and attention—­but for some time the noise of argument and the clatter of tongues were so great that I could not make myself heard.  The duke endeavored to second my efforts, but in vain.  At last Ferrari’s notice was attracted—­he turned round, and seizing a dessert knife beat with it on the table and on his own plate so noisily and persistently that the loud laughter and conversation ceased suddenly.  The moment had come—­I raised my head, fixed my spectacles more firmly over my eyes, and spoke in distinct and steady tones, first of all stealing a covert glance toward Ferrari.  He had sunk back again lazily in his chair and was lighting a cigarette.

“My friends,” I said, meeting with a smile the inquiring looks that were directed toward me, “I have presumed to interrupt your mirth for a moment, not to restrain it, but rather to give it a fresh impetus.  I asked you all here tonight, as you know, to honor me by your presence and to give a welcome to our mutual friend, Signor Guido Ferrari.”  Here I was interrupted by a loud clapping of hands and ejaculations of approval, while Ferrari himself murmured affably between two puffs of his cigarette.  “Tropp’ onore, amico, tropp’ onore!” I resumed, “This young and accomplished gentleman, who is, I believe, a favorite with you all, has been compelled through domestic affairs to absent himself from our circle for the past few weeks, and I think he must himself be aware how much we have missed his pleasant company.  It will, however, be agreeable to you, as it has been for me, to know that he has returned to Naples a richer man than when he left it—­that fortune has done him justice, and that with the possession of abundant wealth he is at last called upon to enjoy the reward due to his merits!”