were put into execution it might be by some one else; for, extraordinary as it was, he was not absolutely certain of its success.  He was not sure of Donna Tullia’s discretion, either, until by a judicious withholding of the secret he had given her a sufficient idea of its importance.  But on mature reflection he came to the conclusion that, even if she possessed the information he was able to give, she would not dare to mention it, nor even to hint at it.

The grey light of Ash-Wednesday morning broke over Rome, and stole through the windows of Giovanni Saracinesca’s bedroom.  Giovanni had not slept much, but his restlessness was due rather to his gladness at having performed the last of his social duties than to any disturbance of mind.  All night he lay planning what he should do,—­how he might reach his place in the mountains by a circuitous route, leaving the general impression that he was abroad—­and how, when at last he had got to Saracinesca unobserved, he would revel in the solitude and in the thought of being within half a day’s journey of Corona d’Astrardente.  He was willing to take a great deal of trouble, for he did not wish people to know his whereabouts; he would not have it said that he had gone into the country to be near Corona and to see her every day, as would certainly be said if his real movements were discovered.  Accordingly, he fulfilled his programme to the letter.  He left Rome on the afternoon of Ash-Wednesday for Florence; there he visited several acquaintances who, he knew, would write to their friends in Rome of his appearance; from Florence he went to Paris, and gave out that he was going upon a shooting expedition in the Arctic regions, as soon as the weather was warm enough.  As he was well known for a sportsman and a traveller, this statement created no suspicion; and when he finally left Paris, the newspapers and the gossips all said he had gone to Copenhagen on his way to the far north.  In due time the statement reached Rome, and it was supposed that society had lost sight of Giovanni Saracinesca for at least eight months.  It was thought that he had acted with great delicacy in absenting himself; he would thus allow the first months of Corona’s mourning to pass before formally presenting himself to society as her suitor.  Considering the peculiar circumstances of the case, there would be nothing improper, from a social point of view, in his marrying Corona at the expiration of a year after her husband’s death.  Of course he would marry her; there was no doubt of that—­he had been in love with her so long, and now she was both free and rich.  No one suspected that Giovanni, instead of being in Scandinavia, was quietly established at Saracinesca, a day’s journey from Rome, busying himself with the management of the estate, and momentarily satisfied in feeling himself so near the woman he loved.