“This is a case of arrant cruelty to a man of my temper,” said the Prince.  “To be expected to behave like an ordinary creature, with grins and smiles and decent paces, when I have just heard what I have longed to hear for years.  But I will revenge myself by making a noise about it by-and-by.  I will concoct schemes for your wedding, and dream of nothing but illuminations and decorations.  You shall be Prince of Sant’ Ilario, Giovanni, as I was before my father died; and I will give you that estate outright, and the palace in the Corso to live in.”

“Perhaps we might live in my palace,” suggested Corona.  It seemed strange to her to be discussing her own marriage, but it was necessary to humour the old Prince.  “Of course,” he said.  “I forgot all about it.  You have places enough to live in.  One forgets that you will in the end be the richest couple in Italy.  Ha!” he cried, in sudden enthusiasm, “the Saracinesca are not dead yet!  They are greater than ever—­and our lands here so near together, too.  We will build a new road to Astrardente, and when you are married you shall be the first to drive over it from Astrardente here.  We will do all kinds of things—­we will tunnel the mountain!”

“I am sure you will do that in the end,” said Giovanni, laughing.

“Well—­let us go to dinner,” answered his father.  “It has grown quite dark since we have been talking, and we shall be falling over the edge if we are not careful.”

“I will go and tell Sister Gabrielle before dinner,” said Corona to Giovanni.

So they left her at the door of her apartment, and she went in.  She found the Sister in an inner room, with a book of devotions in her hand.

“Pray for me, my Sister,” she said, quietly.  “I have resolved upon a great step.  I am going to be married again.”

Sister Gabrielle looked up, and a quiet smile stole over her thin face.

“It is soon, my friend,” she said.  “It is soon to think of that.  But perhaps you are right—­is it the young Prince?”

“Yes,” answered Corona, and sank into a deep tapestried chair.  “It is soon I know well.  But it has been long—­have struggled hard—­I love him very much—­so much, you do not know!”

The Sister sighed faintly, and came and took her hand.

“It is right that you should marry,” she said, gently.  “You are too young, too famously beautiful, too richly endowed, to lead the life you have led at Astrardente these many months.”

“It is not that,” said Corona, an expression of strange beauty illuminating her lovely face.  “Not that I am young, beautiful as you say, if it is so, or endowed with riches—­those reasons are nothing.  It is this that tells me,” she whispered, pressing her left hand to her heart.  “When one loves as I love, it is right.”

“Indeed it is,” assented the good Sister.  “And I think you have chosen wisely.  When will you be married?”

“Hardly before next summer—­I can hardly think connectedly yet—­it has been very sudden.  I knew I should marry him in the end, but I never thought I could consent so soon.  Oh, Sister Gabrielle, you are so good—­were you never in love?”