“Giovanni is a rough fellow,” remarked Valdarno, “and will not stand any opposition, so he took the first opportunity of getting the man out of the way.  Do you see?  The old story—­jealous of the wrong man.  Can one be jealous of Del Ferice?  Bah!”

“And who would have been the right man to attack?” was asked.

“Her husband, of course,” returned Valdarno with a sneer.  “That angel of beauty has the ineffably eccentric idea that she loves that old transparency, that old magic-lantern slide of a man!”

On the other hand, there was a party of people who affirmed, as beyond all doubt, that the duel had been brought about by Giovanni’s forgetting his dance with Donna Tullia.  Del Ferice was naturally willing to put himself forward in her defence, reckoning on the favour he would gain in her eyes.  He had spoken sharply to Giovanni about it, and told him he had behaved in an ungentlemanly manner—­whereupon Giovanni had answered that it was none of his business; an altercation had ensued in a remote room in the Frangipani palace, and Giovanni had lost his temper and taken Del Ferice by the throat, and otherwise greatly insulted him.  The result had been the duel in which Del Ferice had been nearly killed.  There was a show of truth about this story, and it was told in such a manner as to make Del Ferice appear as the injured party.  Indeed, whichever tale were true, there was no doubt that the two men had disliked each other for a long time, and that they were both looking out for the opportunity of an open disagreement.

Old Saracinesca appeared in the afternoon, and was surrounded by eager questioners of all sorts.  The fact of his having served his own son in the capacity of second excited general astonishment.  Such a thing had not been heard of in the annals of Roman society, and many ancient wisdom-mongers severely censured the course he had pursued.  Could anything be more abominably unnatural?  Was it possible to conceive of the hard-heartedness of a man who could stand quietly and see his son risk his life?  Disgraceful!

The old Prince either would not tell what he knew, or had no information to give.  The latter theory was improbable.  Some one made a remark to that effect.

“But, Prince,” the man said, “would you second your own son in an affair without knowing the cause of the quarrel?”

“Sir,” returned the old man, proudly, “my son asked my assistance; I did not sell it to him for his confidence.”  People knew the old man’s obstinacy, and had to be satisfied with his short answers, for he was himself as quarrelsome as a Berserker or as one of his own irascible ancestors.

He met Donna Tullia in the street.  She stopped her carriage, and beckoned him to come to her.  She looked paler than Saracinesca had ever seen her, and was much excited.

“How could you let them fight?” were her first words.

“It could not be helped.  The quarrel was too serious.  No one would more gladly have prevented it than I; but as my son had so desperately insulted Del Ferice, he was bound to give him satisfaction.”