“Would you mind telling me the name of my husband?” inquired Flavia, interrupting the paternal lecture.

“The man I have selected for my son-in-law is one whom all women would justly envy you, were it not that envy is an atrocious sin, and one which I trust you will henceforth endeavour—–­”

“To drown, crush out and stamp upon in the pursuit of true Christian principles,” said Flavia with a laugh.  “I know all about envy.  It is one of the seven deadlies.  I can tell you them all, if you like.”

“Flavia, I am amazed!” cried the princess, severely.

“I had not expected this conduct of my daughter,” said Montevarchi.  “And though I am at present obliged to overlook it, I can certainly not consider it pardonable.  You will listen with becoming modesty and respect to what I have to say.”

“I am all modesty, respect and attention—­but I would like to know his name, papa—­please consider that pardonable!”

“I do not know why I should not tell you that, and I shall certainly give you all such information concerning him as it is proper that you should receive.  The fact that he is a widower need not surprise you, for in the inscrutable ways of Providence some men are deprived of their wives sooner than others.  Nor should his age appear to you in the light of an obstacle—­indeed there are no obstacles—–­”

“A widower—­old—­probably bald—­I can see him already.  Is he fat, papa?”

“He approaches the gigantic; but as I have often told you, Flavia, the qualities a wise father should seek in choosing a husband for his child are not dependent upon outward—–­”

“For heaven’s sake, mamma,” cried Flavia, “tell me the creature’s name!”

“The Marchese di San Giacinto—­let your father speak, and do not interrupt him.”

“While you both insist on interrupting me,” said Montevarchi, “it is impossible for me to express myself.”

“I wish it were!” observed Flavia, under her breath.  “You are speaking of the Saracinesca cousin, San Giacinto?  Not so bad after all.”

“It is very unbecoming in a young girl to speak of men by their last names—–­”

“Giovanni, then.  Shall I call him Giovanni?”

“Flavia!” exclaimed the princess.  “How can you be so undutiful!  You should speak of him as the Marchese di San Giacinto.”

“Silence!” cried the prince.  “I will not be interrupted!  The Marchese di San Giacinto will call to-morrow, after breakfast, and will pay his respects to you.  You will receive him in a proper spirit.”

“Yes, papa,” replied Flavia, suddenly growing meek, and folding her hands submissively.

“He has behaved with unexampled liberality,” continued Montevarchi, “and I need hardly say that as the honour of our house was concerned I have not allowed myself to be outdone.  Since you refuse to listen to the words of fatherly instruction which it is natural I should speak on this occasion, you will at least remember that your future husband is entirely such a man as I would have chosen, that he is a Saracinesca, as well as a rich man, and that he has been accustomed in the women of his family to a greater refinement of manner than you generally think fit to exhibit in the presence of your father.”