And so it came to pass that they all dwelt under the same roof, and were sitting together at breakfast on the morning of the 24th of September, when the old prince told them of the accident which had happened to Gouache.

“How did you hear the news?” asked Giovanni.

“Montevarchi told me this morning.  He was very much disturbed at the idea of having an interesting young man in his house, with Plavia and Faustina at home.”  Old Saracinesca smiled grimly.

“Why should that trouble him?” inquired Corona.

“He has the ancient ideas,” replied her father-in-law.

“After all—­Flavia—­”

“Yes Flavia, after all—­”

“I shall be curious to see how the other one turns out,” remarked Giovanni.  “There seems to be a certain unanimity in our opinion of Flavia.  However, I daresay it is mere gossip, and Casa Montevarchi is not a gay place for a girl of her age.”

“Not gay?  How do you know?” asked the old prince.  “Does the girl want Carnival to last till All Souls’?  Did you ever dine there, Giovannino?”

“No—­nor any one else who is not a member of the most Excellent Casa Montevarchi.”

“Then how do you know whether it is gay or not?”

“You should hear Ascanio Bellegra describe their life,” retorted Giovanni.

“And I suppose you describe your life to him, in exchange?” Prince Saracinesca was beginning to lose his temper, as he invariably did whenever he could induce his son to argue any question with him.  “I suppose you deplore each other’s miserable condition.  I tell you what I think, Giovanni.  You had better go and live in Corona’s house if you are not happy here.”

“It is let,” replied Giovanni with imperturbable calm, but his wife bit her lip to control her rising laughter.

“You might travel,” growled the old gentleman.

“But I am very happy here.”

“Then what do you mean by talking like that about Casa Montevarchi?”

“I fail to see the connection between the two ideas,” observed Giovanni.

“You live in precisely the same circumstances as Ascanio Bellegra.  I think the connection is clear enough.  If his life is sad, so is yours.”  “For downright good logic commend me to my beloved father!” cried Giovanni, breaking into a laugh at last.

“A laughing-stock for my children!  I have come to this!” exclaimed his father gruffly.  But his features relaxed into a good-humoured smile, that was pleasant to see upon his strong dark face.

“But, really, I am very sorry to hear this of poor Gouache,” said Corona at last, returning to the original subject of their conversation.  “I hope it is nothing really dangerous.”

“It is always dangerous to be run over by a carriage,” answered Giovanni.  “I will go and see him, if they will let me in.”