"Whereby I shall be fulfilling your previous commands, in setting up an
establishment for myself and living like a gentleman," returned Giovanni,
with a bitter laugh. "It is nothing to me--if you turn me out. I am rich,
as you justly observed."

"You will have the more leisure to lead the life you like best," retorted
the Prince; "to hang about in society, to go where you please, to make
love to--" the old man stopped a moment. His son was watching him
fiercely, his hand clenched upon the table, his face as white as death.

"To whom?" he asked with a terrible effort to be calm.

"Do you think I am afraid of you? Do you think your father is less strong
or less fierce than you? To whom?" cried the angry old man, his whole
pent-up fury bursting out as he rose suddenly to his feet. "To whom but
to Corona d'Astrardente--to whom else should you make love?--wasting your
youth and life upon a mad passion! All Rome says it--I will say it too!"

"You have said it indeed," answered Giovanni, in a very low voice. He
remained seated at the table, not moving a muscle, his face as the face
of the dead. "You have said it, and in insulting that lady you have said
a thing not worthy for one of our blood to say. God help me to remember
that you are my father," he added, trembling suddenly.

"Hold!" said the Prince, who, with all his ambition for his son, and his
hasty temper, was an honest gentleman. "I never insulted, her--she is
above suspicion. It is you who are wasting your life in a hopeless
passion for her. See, I speak calmly--"