“Perhaps,” suggested his wife, “it is the Prince who is ill, and Signor Sassi has taken Sabina to the country to see her brother.”

“No,” answered the Baron after a moment’s thought.  “That family is eccentric, but the girl would not have gone to the country without a bag.”

“There is something in that,” answered the Baroness, and they relapsed into silence.

Yet she was not satisfied, for, as her husband said, the Conti were all eccentric.  Nevertheless, Sabina would at least have telegraphed, or sent a line from the station, or Sassi would have done it for her, for he was a man of business.

After a long time, the Baroness suggested that if her husband knew Sassi’s address, some one should be sent to his house to find out if he had gone out of town.

“I have not the least idea where he lives,” the Baron said.  “As long as I had any business with him, I addressed him at the palace.”

“The porter may know,” observed the Baroness.

“The porter is an idiot,” retorted the Baron, puffing at his cigar.

His wife knew what that meant, and did not enquire why an idiot was left in charge of the palace.  Volterra did not intend to take that way of making enquiries about Sabina, if he made any at all, and the Baroness knew that when he did not mean to do a thing, the obstinacy of a Calabrian mule was docility compared with his dogged opposition.  Moreover, she would not have dared to do it unknown to him.  There was some good reason why he did not intend to look for Sassi.

“Besides,” he condescended to say after a long time, “she is quite safe with that old man, wherever they are.”

“Society might not think so, my dear,” answered the Baroness in mild protest.

“Society had better mind its business, and let us take care of ours.”

“Yes, my dear, yes, of course!”

She did not agree with him at all.  Her ideal of a happy life was quite different, for she was very much pleased when society took a lively interest in her doings, and nothing interested her more than the doings of society.  She presently ventured to argue the case.

“Yes, of course,” she repeated, by way of preliminary conciliation.  “I was only wondering what people will think, if anything happens to the girl while she is under our charge.”

“What can happen to her?”

“There might be some talk about her going out in this way.  The servants know it, you see, and she is evidently not coming home this evening.  They know that she went out without leaving any message, and they must think it strange.”

“I agree with you.”

“Well, then, there will be some story about her.  Do you see what I mean?”

“Perfectly.  But that will not affect us in the least.  Every one knows what strange people the Conti are, and everybody knows that we are perfectly respectable.  If there is a word said about the girl’s character, you will put her into the carriage, my dear, and deposit her at the convent under the charge of her sister.  Everybody will say that you have done right, and the matter will be settled.”