other way when he passes along the Marina where the women are bathing
in the summer! He shall do that for you on Sunday afternoon when you
come to Capodimonte. It makes even mamma die of laughing, and you know
how religious she is. But then, of course, men--that does not matter.
Religion is for women, and they understand that quite well."

The Marchesino never made any pretence of piety. One virtue he had in
the fullest abundance. He was perfectly sincere with those whom he
considered his friends. That there could be any need for hypocrisy
never occurred to him.

"Mamma would hate it if we were saints," he continued.

"I am sure the Marchesa can be under no apprehension on that score,"
said Artois.

"No, I don't think so," returned the Marchesino, quite seriously.

He had a sense of humor, but it did not always serve him. Occasionally
it was fitful, and when summoned by irony remained at a distance.

"It is true, Emilio, you have never seen me angry," he continued,
reverting to the remark of Artois; "you ought to. Till you have seen a
Panacci angry you do not really know him. With you, of course, I could
never be angry--never, never. You are my friend, my comrade. To you I
tell everything."

A sudden remembrance seemed to come to him. Evidently a new thought
had started into his active mind, for his face suddenly changed, and
became serious, even sentimental.