“I will not call you anything—­instead of calling you, I will kiss you—­so—­is it not better than any name?”

A deep blush spread over Flavia’s face and then subsided suddenly, leaving her very pale.  For a long time neither spoke again.

“Did your father tell you the news before we left?” asked San Giacinto at last, when they were rolling over the Campagna along the Via Latina.

“No—­what?”

“It is somewhat remarkable news.  If you are afraid of fainting,” he added, with rough humour, “hold your bottle of salts ready.”

Flavia looked up uneasily, wondering whether there were anything wrong about San Giacinto.  She knew very well that her father had been glad to get rid of her.

“I am not San Giacinto after all,” he said quietly.  Flavia started and drew back.

“Who are you then?” she asked quickly.

“I am Prince Saracinesca, and you are the princess.”  He spoke very calmly, and watched her face to see the effect of the news.

“I wish you were!” she exclaimed nervously.  She wondered whether he was going mad.

“There seems to be no doubt about it,” he answered, “your father informed me of the fact as a wedding present.  He has examined all the papers and will send the lawyers out to Frascati to prepare the case with me.”

He told her the whole story in detail.  As he proceeded, a singular expression came into Flavia’s face, and when he had finished she broke out into voluble expressions of joy.

“I always knew that I was born to be a princess—­I mean a real one!  How could I be anything else?  Oh!  I am so happy, and you are such a darling to be a prince!  And to think that if papa had not discovered the papers, those horrid Sant’ Ilario people would have had everything.  Princess Saracinesca!  Eh, but how it sounds!  Almost as good as Orsini, and much nicer with you, you great big, splendid lion!  Why did they not call you Leone?  It is too good to be true!  And I always hated Corona, ever since I was a little girl and she was the Astrardente, because she used to say I did not behave well and that Faustina was much prettier—­I heard her say so when I was behind the curtains.  Why did you not find it out ever so long ago?  Think what a wedding we should have had, just like Sant’ Ilario’s!  But it was very fine after all, and of course there is nothing to complain of.  Evviva!  Evviva!  Do give me one of those cigarettes—­I never smoked in my life, and I am so happy that I know it will not hurt me!”

San Giacinto had his case in his hand, and laughed as he presented it to her.  Quiet as he was in his manner he was far the happier of the two, as he was far more capable of profound feeling than the wild girl who was now his wife.  He was glad, too, to see that she was so thoroughly delighted, for he knew well enough that even after he had gained the suit he would need the support of an ambitious woman to strengthen his position.  He did not believe that the Saracinesca would submit tamely to such a tremendous shock of fortune, and he foresaw that their resentment would probably be shared by a great number of their friends.