“I was very sorry,” answered Corona, quietly, “but it was impossible.  I am glad you all enjoyed it so much.  Good-bye.”

So they parted.

“How she wishes that same husband of hers would follow the example of my excellent old Mayer, of blessed memory, and take himself out of the world to-day or to-morrow!” thought Donna Tullia, as she walked up the church.

She was sure something unusual had occurred, and she longed to fathom the mystery.  But she was not altogether a bad woman, and when she had collected her thoughts she made up her mind that even by the utmost stretch of moral indulgence, she could not consider herself in a proper state to undertake so serious a matter as confession.  She therefore waited a few minutes, to give time for Corona to drive away, and then turned back.  She cautiously pushed aside the curtain and looked out.  The Astrardente carriage was just disappearing in the distance.  Donna Tullia descended the steps, got into her brougham, and proceeded to the studio of Monsieur Anastase Gouache, the portrait-painter.  She had not accomplished much, save to rouse her curiosity, and that parting thrust concerning Don Giovanni had been rather ill-timed.

She drove to the door of the studio and found Del Ferice waiting for her as usual.  If Corona had accompanied her, she would have expressed astonishment at finding him; but, as a matter of fact, Ugo always met her there, and helped to pass the time while she was sitting.  He was very amusing, and not altogether unsympathetic to her; and moreover, he professed for her the most profound devotion—­genuine, perhaps, and certainly skilfully expressed.  If any one had paid much attention to Del Fence’s doings, it would have been said that he was paying court to the rich young widow.  But he was never looked upon by society from the point of view of matrimonial possibility, and no one thought of attaching any importance to his doings.  Nevertheless Ugo, who had been gradually rising in the social scale for many years, saw no reason why he should not win the hand of Donna Tullia as well as any one else, if only Giovanni Saracinesca could be kept out of the way; and he devoted himself with becoming assiduity to the service of the widow, while doing his utmost to promote Giovanni’s attachment for the Astrardente, which he had been the first to discover.  Donna Tullia would probably have laughed to scorn the idea that Del Ferice could think of himself seriously as a suitor, but of all her admirers she found him the most constant and the most convenient.

“What are the news this morning?” she asked, as he opened her carriage-door for her before the studio.

“None, save that I am your faithful slave as ever,” he answered.

“I have just seen the Astrardente,” said Donna Tullia, still sitting in her seat.  “I will let you guess where it was that we met.”

“You met in the church of the Capuchins,” replied Del Ferice promptly, with a smile of satisfaction.