insignificant detail as a Papist's prejudices. But I wish I
were a duke and a millionaire. Do you know any one who could
create me a duke and endow me with a million?"

"No, Signorino," she answered, shaking her head.

"Fragrant Cytherea, foam-born Venus, deathless Aphrodite,
cannot, goddess though she is," he complained. "The fact is, I
'm feeling rather undone. I think I will ask you to bring me a
bottle of Asti-spumante--some of the dry kind, with the white
seal. I 'll try to pretend that it's champagne. To tell or
not to tell--that is the question.

'A face to lose youth for, to occupy age
With the dream of, meet death with--

And yet, if you can believe me, the man who penned those lines
had never seen her. He penned another line equally pat to the
situation, though he had never seen me, either

'Is there no method to tell her in Spanish?"

But you can't imagine how I detest that vulgar use of 'pen' for
'write'--as if literature were a kind of pig. However, it's
perhaps no worse than the use of Asti for champagne. One
should n't be too fastidious. I must really try to think of
some method of telling her in Spanish."

Marietta went to fetch the Asti.