himself “Il conte del Ferice.”  No one had ever thought it worth while to dispute him the title; and as he had hitherto not succeeded in conferring it upon any dowered damsel, the question of his countship was left unchallenged.  He had made many acquaintances in the college where he had been educated; for his father had paid for his schooling in the Collegio dei Nobili, and that in itself was a passport—­for as the lad grew to the young man, he zealously cultivated the society of his old school-fellows, and by wisely avoiding all other company, acquired a right to be considered one of themselves.  He was very civil and obliging in his youth, and had in that way acquired a certain reputation for being indispensable, which had stood him in good stead.  No one asked whether he had paid his tailor’s bill; or whether upon certain conditions, his tailor supplied him with raiment gratis.  He was always elaborately dressed, he was always ready to take a hand at cards, and he was always invited to every party in the season.  He had cultivated with success the science of amusing, and people asked him to dinner in the winter, and to their country houses in the summer.  He had been seen in Paris, and was often seen at Monte Carlo; but his real home and hunting-ground was Rome, where he knew every one and every one knew him.  He had made one or two fruitless attempts to marry young women of American extraction and large fortune; he had not succeeded in satisfying the paternal mind in regard to guarantees, and had consequently been worsted in his endeavours.  Last summer, however, it appeared that he had been favoured with an increase of fortune.  He gave out that an old uncle of his, who had settled in the south of Italy, had died, leaving him a modest competence; and while assuming a narrow band of crepe upon his hat, he had adopted also a somewhat more luxurious mode of living.  Instead of going about on foot or in cabs, he kept a very small coupe, with a very small horse and a diminutive coachman:  the whole turn-out was very quiet in appearance, but very serviceable withal.  Ugo sometimes wore too much jewellery; but his bad taste, if so it could be called, did not extend to the modest equipage.  People accepted the story of the deceased uncle, and congratulated Ugo, whose pale face assumed on such occasions a somewhat deprecating smile.  “A few scudi,” he would answer—­“a very small competence; but what would you have?  I need so little—­it is enough for me.”  Nevertheless people who knew him well warned him that he was growing stout.

The other man who followed the Duchessa d’Astrardente across the drawing-room was of a different type.  Don Giovanni Saracinesca was neither very tall nor remarkably handsome, though in the matter of his beauty opinion varied greatly.  He was very dark—­almost as dark for a man as the Duchessa was for a woman.  He was strongly built, but very lean, and his features stood out in bold and sharp relief from the setting