“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed old Quinto Lalli with a quiet, almost noiseless laugh; “it is very well and shrewdly said, bambina mia.  But between the two times of interference, my Bianca, there is a happy medium; an intervening space, a high table-land, we may say, after the dominion of fathers and uncles has been escaped from, and before that of sons and nephews begins—­a short time, during which a man may and can please himself.  Now, it seems to me, that your Marchese—­pardon me for the anticipation, it is a mere figure of speech, your Marchese di Castelmare, I say, seems to me to be just in that happy position!”

“I don’t know that, I have not seen enough to be sure about that yet.  That young fellow, the Marchese Ludovico, does not look to me a likely sort of man to stand by quietly and see himself cut out of houses and lands!  And besides,—­it strikes me—­”

“Speak out your thought, bambina mia; I am sure it is one worth hearing.  And between us, you know—­”

“Well, between ourselves then,” continued Bianca; while a smile, half of mockery and half of pleasure, writhed her lips into changing outlines, each more bewitchingly pretty than the other, and her eyes were turned away from Quinto to a contemplation of the slender dainty foot peeping out from beneath her dress, as she lay on the sofa; “between ourselves, papa mio, from one or two small observations, which I chanced to make to-day, it strikes me that the Marchese Ludovico might possibly feel other additional objections to the establishment of any such relations, as you are contemplating between me and his uncle, besides the likelihood that they might be the means of cutting him out of his heirship.”

“Ha, I see, I see; nothing more likely!  Per Dio, bambina mia, you lose no time!  Brava la Bianca!  And perhaps I may conclude, from one or two small observations that I have been able to make myself, you would prefer to win on the nephew!  Eh, cara mia” said the old man, looking at her with a sly smile.

“Pshaw!” cried Bianca, with a toss of her auburn ringlets, and a shrug of her beautiful shoulders; “I must do my duty in that state of life to which it has pleased God to call me,—­as the nuns at St. Agata taught me.  But between uncles and nephews, I suppose any girl would say, nephews for choice!”

“But you see, my child, the devil of it is that it would be the Milan story over again.  You would have all the family to fight against.  A Cardinal Legate can be quite as despotic, and disagreeable, and tyrannical as an Austrian governor.  You may be very sure that these people have some marriage in view for this young Marchese, the hope of the family!  We know that the Marchese Lamberto is hand and glove with the Cardinal.  And there would be an exit from Ravenna after the same fashion as our last!”

“I know for certain already, that there is a marriage arranged between the young Marchese and no less a personage than the niece of the Cardinal Legate himself,” said Bianca.