"I trust not," said Giovanni, with a smile. "I trust she did not murder
old Mayer. Nevertheless she is a widow. That is a strong objection. Have
any of my ancestors married widows?"

"You show your ignorance at every turn," said the old Prince, with a
scornful laugh. "Leone Saracinesca married the widow of the Elector of
Limburger-Stinkenstein in 1581."

"It is probably the German blood in our veins which gives you your
taste for argument," remarked Giovanni. "Because three hundred years
ago an ancestor married a widow, I am to marry one now. Wait--do not be
angry--there are other reasons why I do not care for Madame Mayer. She is
too gay for me--too fond of the world."

The Prince burst into aloud ironical laugh. His white hair and beard
bristled about his dark face, and he showed all his teeth, strong and
white still.

"That is magnificent!" he cried; "it is superb, splendid, a piece of
unpurchasable humour! Giovanni Saracinesca has found a woman who is too
gay for him! Heaven be praised! We know his taste at last. We will give
him a nun, a miracle of all the virtues, a little girl out of a convent,
vowed to a life of sacrifice and self-renunciation. That will please
him--he will be a model happy husband."

"I do not understand this extraordinary outburst," answered Giovanni,
with cold scorn. "Your mirth is amazing, but I fail to understand its
source."

His father ceased laughing, and looked at him curiously, his heavy brows