She sighed a little as she went.
"I hope the poor man will get well!" she exclaimed.
"Do not disturb your mind about the young man," answered her father. "He will be attended by the proper persons, and the doctor will bleed him and the will of Heaven will be done. It is not the duty of a well-conducted young woman to be thinking of such things, and you may dismiss the subject at once."
"Yes, papa," said Faustina submissively. But in spite of the dutiful tone of voice in which she spoke, the dim light of the tall lamps in the antechambers showed a strange expression of mingled amusement and contrariety in the girl's ethereal face.
CHAPTER II.
"You know Gouache?" asked old Prince Saracinesca, in a tone which implied that he had news to tell. He looked from his daughter-in-law to his son as he put the question, and then went on with his breakfast.
"Very well," answered Giovanni. "What about him?"
"He was knocked down by a carriage last night. The carriage belonged to
Montevarchi, and Gouache is at his house, in danger of his life."
"Poor fellow!" exclaimed Corona in ready sympathy. "I am so sorry! I am very fond of Gouache."
Giovanni Saracinesca, known to the world since his marriage as Prince of Sant' Ilario, glanced quickly at his wife, so quickly that neither she nor the old gentleman noticed the fact.
The three persons sat at their midday breakfast in the dining-room of the Palazzo Saracinesca. After much planning and many discussions the young couple had determined to take up their abode with Giovanni's father. There were several reasons which had led them to this decision, but the two chief ones were that they were both devotedly attached to the old man; and secondly, that such a proceeding was strictly fitting and in accordance with the customs of Romans. It was true that Corona, while her old husband, the Duca d'Astrardente, was alive, had grown used to having an establishment exclusively her own, and both the Saracinesca had at first feared that she would be unwilling to live in her father-in-law's house. Then, too, there was the Astrardente palace, which, could not lie shut up and allowed to go to ruin; but this matter was compromised advantageously by Corona's letting it to an American millionaire who wished to spend the winter in Rome. The rent paid was large, and Corona never could have too much money for her improvements out at Astrardente. Old Saracinesca wished that the tenant might have been at least a diplomatist, and cursed the American by his gods, but Giovanni said that his wife had shown good sense in getting as much as she could for the palace.
"We shall not need it till Orsino grows up—unless you marry again," said Sant' Ilario to his father, with a laugh.
Now, Orsino was Giovanni's son and heir, aged, at the time of this tale, six months and a few days. In spite of his extreme youth, however, Orsino played a great and important part in the doings of the Saracinesca household. In the first place, he was the heir, and the old prince had been found sitting by his cradle with an expression never seen in his face since Giovanni had been a baby. Secondly, Orsino was a very fine child, swarthy of skin, and hard as a tiger cub, yet having already his mother's eyes, large, coal-black and bright, but deep and soft withal. Thirdly, Orsino had a will of his own, admirably seconded by an enormous lung power. Not that he cried, when he wanted anything. His baby eyes had not yet been seen to shed tears. He merely shouted, loud and long, and thumped the sides of his cradle with his little clenched fists, or struck out straight at anybody who chanced to be within reach. Corona rejoiced in the child, and used to say that he was like his grandfather, his father and his mother all put together. The old prince thought that if this were true the boy would do very well; Corona was the most beautiful dark woman of her time; he himself was a sturdy, tough old man, though his hair and beard were white as snow, and Giovanni was his father's ideal of what a man of his race should be. The arrival of the baby Orsino had been an additional argument in favour of living together, for the child's grandfather could not have been separated from him even by the quarter of a mile which lay between the two palaces.
And so it came to pass that they all dwelt under the same roof, and were sitting together at breakfast on the morning of the 24th of September, when the old prince told them of the accident which had happened to Gouache.
"How did you hear the news?" asked Giovanni.
"Montevarchi told me this morning. He was very much disturbed at the idea of having an interesting young man in his house, with Flavia and Faustina at home." Old Saracinesca smiled grimly.
"Why should that trouble him?" inquired Corona.
"He has the ancient ideas," replied her father-in-law.
"After all—Flavia—"
"Yes Flavia, after all—"
"I shall be curious to see how the other one turns out," remarked
Giovanni. "There seems to be a certain unanimity in our opinion of
Flavia. However, I daresay it is mere gossip, and Casa Montevarchi is
not a gay place for a girl of her age."
"Not gay? How do you know?" asked the old prince. "Does the girl want
Carnival to last till All Souls'? Did you ever dine there, Giovannino?"
"No—nor any one else who is not a member of the most Excellent Casa
Montevarchi."
"Then how do you know whether it is gay or not?"
"You should hear Ascanio Bellegra describe their life," retorted
Giovanni.
"And I suppose you describe your life to him, in exchange?" Prince Saracinesca was beginning to lose his temper, as he invariably did whenever he could induce his son to argue any question with him. "I suppose you deplore each other's miserable condition. I tell you what I think, Giovanni. You had better go and live in Corona's house if you are not happy here."
"It is let," replied Giovanni with imperturbable calm, but his wife bit her lip to control her rising laughter.
"You might travel," growled the old gentleman.
"But I am very happy here."
"Then what do you mean by talking like that about Casa Montevarchi?"
"I fail to see the connection between the two ideas," observed Giovanni.
"You live in precisely the same circumstances as Ascanio Bellegra. I
think the connection is clear enough. If his life is sad, so is yours."
"For downright good logic commend me to my beloved father!" cried
Giovanni, breaking into a laugh at last.
"A laughing-stock for my children! I have come to this!" exclaimed his father gruffly. But his features relaxed into a good-humoured smile, that was pleasant to see upon his strong dark face.
"But, really, I am very sorry to hear this of
