"I adore you," said Peter, under his breath. "I'll come with
great pleasure," he said aloud.


"Marietta," he observed, that evening, as he dined, "I would
have you to know that the Aco is bridged. Hence, there is one
symbol the fewer in Lombardy. But why does--you mustn't mind
the Ollendorfian form of my enquiry--why does the chaplain of
the Duchessa wear red stockings?"

"The chaplain of the Duchessa--?" repeated Marietta, wrinkling
up her brow.

"Ang--of the Duchessa di Santangiolo. He wore red stockings,
and shoes with silver buckles. Do you think that's precisely
decorous--don't you think it 's the least bit light-minded--in
an ecclesiastic?"

"He--? Who--?" questioned Marietta.

"But the chaplain of the Duchessa--when he was here this
afternoon."

"The chaplain of the Duchessa!" exclaimed Marietta. "Here this
afternoon? The chaplain of the Duchessa was not here this
afternoon. His Eminence the Lord Prince Cardinal Udeschini was
here this afternoon."

"What!" gasped Peter.