them. As soon as he was gone Del Ferice spoke. His voice was soft, and
had an insinuating tone in it.

"They are saying that Don Giovanni is to be married," he remarked,
watching the Duchessa from the corners of his eyes as he indifferently
delivered himself of his news.

The Duchessa was too dark a woman to show emotion easily. Perhaps she did
not believe the story; her eyes fixed themselves on some distant object
in the room, as though she were intensely interested in something she
saw, and she paused before she answered.

"That is news indeed, if it is true. And whom is he going to marry?"

"Donna Tullia Mayer, the widow of the financier. She is immensely rich,
and is some kind of cousin of the Saracinesca."

"How strange!" exclaimed Corona. "I was just looking at her. Is not that
she over there, with the green feathers?"

"Yes," answered Del Ferice, looking in the direction the Duchessa
indicated. "That is she. One may know her at a vast distance by her
dress. But it is not all settled yet."

"Then one cannot congratulate Don Giovanni to-day?" asked the Duchessa,
facing her interlocutor rather suddenly.

"No," he answered; "it is perhaps better not to speak to him about it."

"It is as well that you warned me, for I would certainly have spoken."