a smile.

"Then you are glad he is gone?"

"I do not regret it."

"Duchessa," said Giovanni, suddenly changing his position, "I am glad he
is gone, because I want to ask you a question. Do I know you well enough
to ask you a question?"

"It depends--" Corona felt the blood rise suddenly to her dark forehead.
Her hands burned intensely in her gloves. The anticipation of something
she had never heard made her heart beat uncontrollably in her breast.

"It is only about myself," continued Giovanni, in low tones. He had seen
the blush, so rare a sight that there was not another man in Rome who had
seen it. He had not time to think what it meant. "It is only about
myself," he went on. "My father wants me to marry; he insists that I
should marry Donna Tullia--Madame Mayer."

"Well?" asked Corona. She shivered; a moment before, she had been
oppressed with the heat. Her monosyllabic question was low and
indistinct. She wondered whether Giovanni could hear the beatings of her
heart, so slow, so loud they almost deafened her.

"Simply this. Do you advise me to marry her?"

"Why do you ask me, of all people?" asked Corona, faintly.

"I would like to have your advice," said Giovanni, twisting his brown