“I have had little time to congratulate you, conte,” he said, in those mellifluous accents of his which were like his own improvised music, “but I assure you I do so with all my heart.  Even in my most fantastic dreams I have never pictured a fairer heroine of a life’s romance than the lady who is now the Countess Oliva.”

I silently bowed my thanks.

“I am of a strange temperament, I suppose,” he resumed.  “To-night this ravishing scene of beauty and splendor makes me sad at heart, I know not why.  It seems too brilliant, too dazzling.  I would as soon go home and compose a dirge as anything.”

I laughed satirically.

“Why not do it?” I said.  “You are not the first person who, being present at a marriage, has, with perverse incongruity, meditated on a funeral!”

A wistful look came into his brilliant poetic eyes.

“I have thought once or twice,” he remarked in a low tone, “of that misguided young man Ferrari.  A pity, was it not, that the quarrel occurred between you?”

“A pity indeed!” I replied, brusquely.  Then taking him by the arm I turned him round so that he faced my wife, who was standing not far off.  “But look at the—­the—­angel I have married!  Is she not a fair cause for a dispute even unto death?  Fy on thee, Luziano!—­why think of Ferrari?  He is not the first man who has been killed for the sake of a woman, nor will he be the last!”

Salustri shrugged his shoulders, and was silent for a minute or two.  Then he added with his own bright smile: 

“Still, amico, it would have been much better if it had ended in coffee and cognac.  Myself, I would rather shoot a man with an epigram than a leaden bullet!  By the do you remember our talking of Cain and Abel that night?”

“Perfectly.”

“I have wondered since,” he continued half merrily, half seriously, “whether the real cause of their quarrel has ever been rightly told.  I should not be at all surprised if one of these days some savant does not discover a papyrus containing a missing page of Holy Writ, which will ascribe the reason of the first bloodshed to a love affair.  Perhaps there were wood nymphs in those days, as we are assured there were giants, and some dainty Dryad might have driven the first pair of human brothers to desperation by her charms!  What say you?”

“It is more than probable,” I answered, lightly.  “Make a poem of it, Salustri; people will say you have improved on the Bible!”

And I left him with a gay gesture to join other groups, and to take my part in the various dances which were now following quickly on one another.  The supper was fixed to take place at midnight.  At the first opportunity I had, I looked at the time.  Quarter to eleven!—­ my heart beat quickly, the blood rushed to my temples and surged noisily in my ears.  The hour I had waited for so long and so eagerly had come!  At last! at last!