“But time and work make havoc with the voice as well as with the face and figure, Signor Marchese!” said Manutoli.

“Not to the same degree, Signor Barone, and not quite so rapidly,” replied the Marchese, with the manner of one laying down the law on a subject of which he is an acknowledged master.  “Of course a voice which has done much work, is not the same thing as a perfectly fresh one?  A chi lo dite? though, observe, you very often gain more in knowledge, and in perfection of art, than you lose in freshness of organ.  But with proper care, voice, though a perishable thing, is not so rapidly and fatally so, as mere beauty of face; that is sure to go very soon.  I have not troubled myself to inquire, as you may imagine, much about the state of La Lalli’s good looks.  But I have informed myself of the condition of her voice, as it was my duty to do.  And I think that in that respect, which is the only one we need care about, the city will find that we have not done badly.”

“For my part, I confess a romanzo comes very specially recommended to my ears from a lovely mouth!” said Ludovico; “and I fully expect to find La Lalli quite up to the mark in this respect.  I shall be disappointed if she is not.”

“From all I have heard, we shall none of us be disappointed!” said Manutoli.

“We shall see in a few minutes!” returned Ludovico, looking at his watch.

“There’s something in the road now, I think, as far as I can see!” said Manutoli, who had stood up in the carriage, holding the rail of the driver’s seat with one hand.  The road stretched long and flat, in a perfectly straight line before them for a great distance.  “Yes,” continued he, “there is certainly something coming along the road;—­a carriage by the quickness with which it nears us:  now for it!”

“Tell him to draw up, Ludovico; and he might as well turn round so as to be ready to drive back.  We will wait here till she comes; and our friends on horseback may as well remain here too,” said the Marchese.

So the little party drew up, and all eyes were turned to the small cloud of dust rapidly approaching them.

“Yes:  it is a carriage, and no mistake; and coming along at a good pace too!” said Manutoli.

“It is she, no doubt; she was to sleep at Bagnacavallo,” returned Ludovico.

“Signori!” said the Marchese, addressing the four, or five mounted officers, “will you kindly put your horses across the road, so that the lady’s driver may see that he is to stop, and that there may be no mistake.”

And then an open carriage became clearly visible, and in the next minute, it could be seen that it was occupied by two persons;—­a lady and another figure—­an old man apparently—­muffled in a huge blue travelling-cloak.

Then in another instant the travelling-carriage, finding the road blocked before it, had stopped, and in the next, the Marchese Lamberto, hat in hand, was standing at the door of it, on the lady’s side;—­the two young men standing immediately behind him, and the horsemen crowded round, craning over the necks of their horses.