I glanced at him in surprise. "What do you mean, amico? Have I
reason to suspect any one?"

He laughed and resumed his seat at the breakfast-table.

"Why, no!" he answered, with a frank look. "But in Naples the air is
pregnant with suspicion--jealousy's dagger is ever ready to strike,
justly or unjustly--the very children are learned in the ways of
vice. Penitents confess to priests who are worse than penitents, and
by Heaven! in such a state of society, where conjugal fidelity is a
farce"--he paused a moment, and then went on--"is it not wonderful
to know a man like you, Fabio? A man happy in home affections,
without a cloud on the sky of his confidence?"

"I have no cause for distrust," I said. "Nina is as innocent as the
little child of whom she is to-day the mother."

"True!" exclaimed Ferrari. "Perfectly true!" and he looked me full
in the eyes, with a smile. "White as the virgin snow on the summit
of Mont Blanc--purer than the flawless diamond--and unapproachable
as the furthest star! Is it not so?"

I assented with a certain gravity; something in his manner puzzled
me. Our conversation soon turned on different topics, and I thought
no more of the matter. But a time came--and that speedily--when I
had stern reason to remember every word he had uttered.