small affairs, such as disputes with your late steward at Corellia,
trials at Barga, nor litigation here at Lucca on a small scale. My
dear marchesa, you have found the law an expensive pastime." The
cavaliere's round eyes twinkled as he said this. "Enrica is therefore
virtually portionless. The choice lies between a husband who will wed
her for herself, or a convent. If I understand your views, a convent
would not suit you. Besides, you would not surely voluntarily condemn
a girl, without vocation, and brought up beside you, to the seclusion
of a convent?"

"But Enrica is a child--I tell you she is too young to think about
marriage, cavaliere."

The marchesa spoke with anger. She would stave off as long as possible
the principal question--that of marriage. Sudden proposals,
too, emanating from others, always nettled her; it narrowed her
prerogative.

"Besides," objected the marchesa, still fencing with the real
question, "who can answer for Count Marescotti? He is so capricious!
Supposing he likes Enrica to-day, he may change before to-morrow. Do
you really think he can care enough about Enrica to marry her? Her
name would be nothing to him."

"I think he does care for her," replied Trenta, reflectively; "but
that can be ascertained. Enrica is a fit consort for a far greater man
than Count Marescotti. Not that he, as you say, would care about her
name. Remember, she will be your heiress--that is something."

"Yes, yes, my heiress," answered the marchesa, vaguely; for the