“Oh, I went into the chapel in the morning, as I very often do, to recite the litany of the Virgin, and if she had remained on her scaffolding I should probably not have noticed her.  But she ran down in the most obliging manner, fearing that she might disturb me, and offering to suspend her work, as long as I should remain at my devotions.  It was so pretty of her, and so prettily said!”

“And then you answered her as prettily, I suppose, Signora?”

“Nay, it is not in my power to do that,” said Violante, with a touch of bitterness; “but I told her, that she did not disturb me in the least; and I spoke to her of the work she was engaged on; and she asked me to come up and look at it; and so we talked on till we became very good friends.”

“And then you were kind enough to converse with her on several subsequent occasions?”

“Oh, yes, we had several long talks; and I liked her so much.  I am sure she is thoroughly good.  I rejoice with all my heart that a destiny, so much more brilliant than anything that could have been expected for her, is likely to be hers.”

“I wish, Signora Contessa, that it was more than likely to be hers; I wish that our path lay clearer before us!” said Ludovico, with a sigh.

“Including me in the `us’?  I wish it were with all my heart.  But remember, Signor Marchese, how much is possible to a man, and how little to a woman.  All, that the strong expression of my own wishes and feelings can do, shall be done when the proper time comes for the doing of it.  But you must not trust to that, or to me.  You ought to save me from being compelled to act at all in the matter.  You are free to speak.  And now that another besides me is so vitally concerned, I think you ought to do so without further delay.”

“And I have fully made up my mind to do it, Signora Contessa.  I have told Paolina, this very day, that I purpose speaking very seriously to my uncle on the subject on the day after to-morrow—­the first day in Lent.  I thought I would let this Carnival time pass by first without breaking in upon it, with business that cannot, I fear, be otherwise than painful.  I have promised Paolina, and am fully determined to speak to my uncle on Wednesday,”

“And what do you purpose saying to him?” asked Violante, looking into his face with quiet eyes.

“In the first instance I have no intention of speaking to him on the subject of Paolina—­”

“No!” interrupted the Contessa, changing her look to one of surprise.

“Not to begin with, I think.  To speak of my intention to make a marriage, which I cannot hope will meet his approbation, would only make my rejection of the alliance, which he hopes to see me form, the more difficult.”

“Yes, that seems true; but I doubt whether you are right there.  You will begin, then, by telling him—?”

“I shall begin by saying that it seems clear to me, that I have little hope of any success in the quarter in which he has wished me to—­”