table, now and then exchanging a few words.
"I was caught in the rain this afternoon," remarked the Prince.
"I hope you will not have a cold," replied his son, civilly. "Why do you walk in such weather?"
"And you—why do you walk?" retorted his father. "Are you less likely to take cold than I am? I walk because I have always walked."
"That is an excellent reason. I walk because I do not keep a carriage."
"Why do not you keep one if you wish to?" asked the Prince.
"I will do as you wish. I will buy an equipage to-morrow, lest I should again walk in the rain and catch cold. Where did you see me on foot?"
"In the Orso, half an hour ago. Why do you talk about my wishes in that absurd way?"
"Since you say it is absurd, I will not do so," said Giovanni, quietly.
"You are always contradicting me," said the Prince. "Some wine,
Pasquale."
"Contradicting you?" repeated Giovanni. "Nothing could be further from my intentions."
The old Prince slowly sipped a glass of wine before he answered.
"Why do not you set up an establishment for yourself and live like a gentleman?" he asked at length. "You are rich—why do you go about on foot and dine in cafés?"
"Do I ever dine at a café when you are dining alone?"
"You have got used to living in restaurants in Paris," retorted his father. "It is a bad habit. What was the use of your mother leaving you a fortune, unless you will live in a proper fashion?"
"I understand you very well," answered Giovanni, his dark eyes beginning to gleam. "You know all that is a pretence. I am the most home-staying man of your acquaintance. It is a mere pretence. You are going to talk about my marriage again."
"And has any one a more natural right to insist upon your marriage than I have?" asked the elder man, hotly. "Leave the wine on the table, Pasquale—and the fruit—here. Give Don Giovanni his cheese. I will ring for the coffee—leave us." The butler and the footman left the room. "Has any one a more natural right, I ask?" repeated the Prince when they were alone.
"No one but myself, I should say," answered Giovanni, bitterly.
"Yourself—yourself indeed! What have you to say about it? This a family matter. Would you have Saracinesca sold, to be distributed piecemeal among a herd of dogs of starving relations you never heard of, merely because you are such a vagabond, such a Bohemian, such a break-neck, crazy good-for-nothing, that you will not take the trouble to accept one of all the women who rush into your arms?"
"Your affectionate manner of speaking of your relatives is only surpassed by your good taste in describing the probabilities of my marriage," remarked Giovanni, scornfully.
"And you say you never contradict me!" exclaimed the Prince, angrily.
"If this is an instance, I can safely say so. Comment is not contradiction."
"Do you mean to say you have not repeatedly refused to marry?" inquired old Saracinesca.
"That would be untrue. I have refused, I do refuse, and I will refuse, just so long as it pleases me."
"That is definite, at all events. You will go on refusing until you have broken your silly neck in imitating Englishmen, and then—good night Saracinesca! The last of the family will have come to a noble end!"
"If the only use of my existence is to become the father of heirs to your titles, I do not care to enjoy them myself."
"You will not enjoy them till my death, at all events. Did you ever reflect that I might marry again?"
"If you please to do so, do not hesitate on my account. Madame Mayer will accept you as soon as me. Marry by all means, and may you have a numerous progeny; and may they all marry in their turn, the day they are twenty. I wish you joy."
"You are intolerable, Giovanni. I should think you would have more respect for Donna Tullia—"
"Than to call her Madame Mayer," interrupted Giovanni.
"Than to suggest that she cares for nothing but a title and a fortune—"
"You showed much respect to her a moment ago, when you suggested that she was ready to rush into my arms."
"I! I never said such a thing. I said that any woman—"
"Including Madame Mayer, of course," interrupted Giovanni again.
"Can you not let me speak?" roared the Prince. Giovanni shrugged his shoulders a little, poured out a glass of wine, and helped himself to cheese, but said nothing. Seeing that his son said nothing, old Saracinesca was silent too; he was so angry that he had lost the thread of his ideas. Perhaps Giovanni regretted the quarrelsome tone he had taken, for he presently spoke to his father in a more conciliatory tone.
"Let us be just," he said. "I will listen to you, and I shall be glad if you will listen to me. In the first place, when I think of marriage I represent something to myself by the term—"
"I hope so," growled the old man.
"I look upon marriage as an important step in a man's life. I am not so old as to make my marriage an immediate necessity, nor so young as to be able wholly to disregard it. I do not desire to be hurried; for when I make up my mind, I intend to make a choice which, if it does not ensure happiness, will at least ensure peace. I do not wish to marry Madame Mayer. She is young, handsome, rich—"
"Very," ejaculated the Prince.
"Very. I also am young and rich, if not handsome."
"Certainly not handsome," said his father, who was nursing his wrath, and meanwhile spoke calmly. "You are the image of me."
"I am proud of the likeness," said Giovanni, gravely. "But to return to
Madame Mayer. She is a widow—"
"Is that her fault?" inquired his father irrelevantly, his anger rising again.
"I trust not," said Giovanni, with a smile. "I trust she did not murder old Mayer. Nevertheless she is a widow. That is a strong objection. Have any of my ancestors married widows?"
"You show your ignorance at every turn," said the old Prince, with a scornful laugh. "Leone Saracinesca married the widow of the Elector of Limburger-Stinkenstein in 1581."
"It is probably the German blood in our veins which gives you your taste for argument," remarked Giovanni. "Because three hundred years ago an ancestor married a widow, I am to marry one now. Wait—do not be angry—there are other reasons why I do not care for Madame Mayer. She is too gay for me—too fond of the world."
The Prince burst into aloud ironical laugh. His white hair and beard bristled about his dark face, and he showed all his teeth, strong and white still.
"That is magnificent!"
